


A Tinkerer's Tale: Sonya Shepard

by thievinghippo



Series: Sonya Shepard [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 21,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories, prompt fics and drabbles involving Sonya Shepard, engineer.  Garrus/Femshep will be the focus, but others will show up occasionally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreams of Omega

**Author's Note:**

> Here you will find random one-shots, drabbles and prompt fics from across the Mass Effect universe. The stories are in no particular order. I just write them when the mood strikes. These are all T rated or lower. 
> 
> The focus will mainly be on Garrus/FemShep. The Shepard in these stories is all the same, Sonya Shepard. She's an engineer who is earth born, sole survivor who mainly walks the paragon side.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the anniversary of Shepard’s death, Garrus runs into a familiar face.

"Officer Vakarian!"

Garrus forced himself to continue taking his sip of beer and not to look up.  No one outside of his growing team knew who he was.  And none of them would be stupid enough to actually say his name outside of their base.  As far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned Garrus Vakarian was MIA. 

He was surprisingly okay with that.  Garrus refused to dwell on why that might be.

Trying to seem casual, he placed his glass on the table and looked up. 

He couldn't quite place the human walking towards him, a wide grin on his face.  The man was wearing battered N7 armor.  A comrade of Shepard's perhaps?  After Saren's defeat, back on the Citadel, a number of people, mostly Alliance soldiers, would walk up to him and thank him for his service.  Whenever it happened, his plates itched.  Felt like he had a target on his back.  Thankfully, since his arrival on Omega, not one person had come up to him to shake his hand.  He liked that.

"I can't believe it's really you!  Here on Omega.  I don't suppose you remember me, it's me, Conrad Verner."

Oh, Garrus remembered all right.  He remembered how seriously Shepard took him, worried that there were others out there, just like him.  He could tell how much being put up on a pedestal, even by strangers, had bothered her.  That was the moment Garrus had quietly tried to knock down the pedestal he had placed her on. 

He just never expected it to crumble as completely as it did. The bitterness he felt when he realized that she was stealing the Normandy, ignoring all the rules that she had so painstakingly told him to follow still tasted like ash in his mouth. 

He should have asked her about it when he had the chance.  Maybe Shepard would have been able to explain the double standard, make him see why she was able to break the rules while she told him he couldn't.  Sure, she saved the galaxy, but he fought for the people who _lived_ in that galaxy.  And when he looked closely, he simply couldn't see the difference.

Instead, Garrus let his resentment build.  And when he heard that she was dead, and after he attended her funeral, there was no reason to even pretend to follow the rules anymore. 

Garrus motioned to Verner to have a seat, all while reacquainting himself where the exits were.  He didn't often go out alone anymore.  While he mainly wore a helmet on the job, there was always the chance someone, somewhere could recognize Archangel.  Simple pleasures like sitting in a bar and having a beer were rare these days. 

"I can't believe I'm running into a member of Commander Shepard's team today.  I mean, it's today!"

So Conrad kept track, too.  A year.  She had been gone for a year.  A full year.  Where the hell had the time gone?

"Keep your voice down, Verner," Garrus said sharply. 

A knowing look crossed Conrad's face.  "Understood.  Still learning the ropes."

"The ropes?" 

Conrad patted the N7 logo on his armor.  "Decided it was time to make a difference."

"Thought you told Shepard that you were going to stay at home."

 _Thought_ you _told Shepard you were going to stay at C-Sec._

Garrus pushed the errant voice away.  He refused to listen to that voice with its pang of guilt whenever he thought of what Shepard would say about his life on Omega. 

"How are you making a difference?" Garrus asked finally. 

"Figure I would talk to people," Conrad said eagerly.  "She took the time to talk to me, didn't she?"

Did she ever talk to people.  There were times it was almost embarrassing.  What right did she have to talk to strangers about genetic therapy?  Or chastising someone over their drug use, assuming it didn't interfere with their job?  Granted, a lot of people seemed to call her over for help as well.  Shepard just had this way of taking a problem and whittling it down to the bone. 

"True enough," Garrus admitted.  He took another sip of his drink. 

"Then I can try to help them with their problems," Conrad said.  "I also have this."

Conrad put a pistol on the table.  It was a Kessler I, just about the crappiest pistol on the market.  Also obsolete, since everyone seemed to have moved on to thermal clips.  Conrad looked ridiculously proud of his weapon.

"You know how to shoot that thing?" Garrus asked, unimpressed.

"No," Conrad said at once.  "It's mostly for show."

Garrus shook his head.  Only show that thing would star in was a comedy vid.  "Any chance I can convince you to do what you told her you'd do?  Stay home?"

Conrad picked up the weapon and cradled it in his hands.  "No."

Standing up, Garrus quickly threw a credit chit on the table.  "Follow me."  If Conrad Verner wanted to be an idiot in Shepard's name, Garrus would do his best to keep him alive. 

He ignored the voice in his head telling him that she'd be pleased.

Garrus led them to the back alley of the bar.  There were a stack of crates.  "Shoot the top one," he instructed.

"Actually use my gun?" Conrad asked, looking slightly fearful.  Garrus nodded.  Conrad took a deep breath and muttered to himself a bit.  "Okay.  Here goes."

His stance was all wrong and aim was off.  He ended up hitting the building.  But Garrus realized quickly that this wasn't an impossible task.  Garrus took the pistol from Conrad's hands and started explaining the basics of shooting.  When he was done, Garrus handed the pistol back to Conrad.

The human looked at the gun, and followed Garrus' instructions to the letter.  He was a surprisingly quick learner.  His next shot wasn't perfect, but he hit the crate. 

"Verner," Garrus asked, suddenly curious.  "What'd you do before you came here?"

Conrad got quiet and started looking intently at the pistol.  "I was a researcher at Sirta Foundation."

Garrus flexed his mandibles in surprise.  That corporation only hired the best.  "What'd you research?"

Conrad's eyes closed.  "Dark Energy."

The look on Conrad's face was one Garrus recognized.  It was the look of a man who had seen too much, knew too much and wanted nothing more than to forget.  Garrus had seen that look on Shepard's face.  But while it had driven Shepard to new heights, it seemed to have broken something in Conrad. 

Garrus couldn't help wondering what exactly Conrad knew. 

"I believed her, you know?" Conrad said, taking another shot with the pistol.  This time he was just left of center.  "About the Reapers.  Based on what she said, and what I've seen..."

"Yeah," Garrus said, taking the pistol back and adjusting the targeting system just slightly.  He handed it back to Conrad.

"We don't have much time left," Conrad said, taking aim.  He shoot dead in the center of the crate.  "I want to spend it helping people.  Why does dark energy matter if we're all going to be dead soon?"

Garrus had no response to that. The certainty in Conrad's voice chilled him.  So instead he asked, "You got a place to stay tonight?"  He would never bring Conrad back to the base, but he could send him to Helena Blake.  Garrus and Blake had a fairly good working relationship, now that she was a legitimate social worker.  And Garrus had sent more than his fair share of people to her, knowing she would help, whether freed slaves, addicts, or sex workers. 

"There's a shelter over in the Fumi District I stay at," Conrad told him. 

"Low on credits?" Garrus asked.

"Who isn't these days?" Conrad said, shrugging his shoulders. 

Garrus paused, wondering just how pissed Shepard would be if he spilled her secret.  He smiled, deciding she wouldn't mind.  "You know, Conrad, there a trick I learned from Commander Shepard herself."

"Really?" Conrad looked more animated than Garrus had seen since they started talking.

"See these crates?  They're useful in more ways than one."  Garrus walked over to the stack, hoping they'd have what he needed. 

He looked in the top crate.  Nothing.  The second crate, however...

"You mean someone just left a credit chit lying around like that?" Conrad said in wonder.  He picked up the chit.  "This has a hundred credits on it!"

"That'll last you a while," Garrus said, pleased.

"And Commander Shepard did this?" Conrad asked eagerly. 

"Damn straight she did," Garrus said.  "It gets better.  Bring out your omni-tool." 

Conrad complied, and Garrus sent him the hacking program Shepard wrote.  "Shepard broke into people's stuff all the time.  She said if they didn't care enough to protect their things from a hacking program, they didn't need it."

"Thank you so much!  This will really help," Conrad said.  "Maybe I could even start saving some credits to donate." 

"Not a bad idea," Garrus told him, slapping him on the shoulder.  "I need to get going.  Don't want to stay in one place for too long." 

"I've heard that rule."  Conrad tucked his pistol into its holster and held out his hand. "Thank you, Vakarian.  I really appreciate the help."

Garrus nodded and shook the man's hand.  He knew Shepard would want him to make one last attempt to send Conrad home.  But the human was right.  They were all on borrowed time.  Garrus wasn't about to stand between the man and his dream. "You're welcome, Verner.  Do good out there. For her." 

"I will," he said quietly.  With a nod, he turned and walked out of the alley.

He thought of Shepard, hoping that where ever she was, she was at peace.  Garrus looked up at the sky and took a deep breath.  It was time he stop beating himself up over the past and start concentrating on the future.  He thought of his team, and how they were slowly but surely making a difference on Omega.  His steps were light as he headed back towards the base.  Towards _home._

He was ready to do some good. 


	2. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someone’s lips.
> 
> A prompt fic from tumblr. I sort of failed at the prompt, but am pleased with the final result.

“Now this,” Garrus said, sliding his scarred mandible across the edge of her jaw, “is a private display of affection.”

“So ‘don’t do this in public, Shepard’ is what you’re saying?” she grinned, settling herself back on the pillows. 

She reached for his hand, trying not to be amazed that she was able to reach for him at all. They had survived the Omega-4 relay. She had severed her leash from Cerberus. Soon they’d be on Illium where the ship would be repaired. And best of all, she and Garrus were currently naked in her bed, cooling down after getting the battle lust out of their systems. 

This,” he said, leaning over her, and gently touching his brow to hers, “you can do in public.” 

Shepard turned to her side and scooted a bit closer to Garrus. He responded by putting his hand on her waist. Another private gesture, not to be done in public. In turn, she slipped her fingers underneath the back of his mandible, stroking the soft hide she found there. Hand on the mandible, public. Hand under the mandible, private. 

As lessons went, Shepard had to say this one of her favorites. 

His fingers tightened around her waist. “So what about human gestures?” Garrus asked, sounding almost eager. 

Her hand left his mandible and Shepard felt her cheeks redden. She was glad his visor was sitting on the nightstand so he didn’t see her body temperature climbing. The notion that he truly wanted to know warmed her heart. Because by now she knew if Garrus didn’t want to know, he simply wouldn’t ask. She wondered if he felt the same way when she had asked him to show her how turians show affection.

Shepard took his hand off her waist, and placed their palms together. Her lips pursed slightly trying to remember how their fingers fit together before. But that was when he had been moving above her and the only sensation that mattered was him.

Turned out she didn’t need to remember; Garrus did. He linked their fingers together. Her thumb, his. Her index finger then his. Her middle finger next to his second finger, followed by her ring finger and pinky. With the slenderness of his hand, the hold felt natural. Right.

“Public or private?” he asked. 

“Both,” Shepard responded. “And this isn’t just a romantic gesture. Friends hold hands, parents and children. Anyone you want to feel closer to.” 

“What else?”

She studied his mouth, wondering if kissing was going to be even possible. Turian mouth plates were flexible enough for language, but kissing? Shepard hadn’t even thought to try during the two times they’d been together. She briefly wondered how wrong it would be if she kept count. Maybe make a spreadsheet. She did love her spreadsheets…

As her brain thought of possible headers (initiation, position, completion), Shepard brought her face close to his. Garrus didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink as she softly pressed her lips against his mouth plates. 

The kiss was only a peck, just slightest amount of pressure, but enough that Shepard wanted more. 

“That’s a public kiss,” Shepard told him. 

His thumb stroked her cheek. “And private?”

Shepard leaned in, pressing their mouths together. This time she lingered, feeling the different texture and shape to his mouth. Her lips didn’t fit naturally against his plates like their hands did. 

But as she kissed him deeper, there was no doubt in her mind that they’d find a way to make it work. 

She opened her mouth slightly and darted her tongue in the small open space between his mouth plates. As her tongue brushed his, she put her hand on his waist, wanting to get closer. 

His reaction was unexpected. He pulled away and looked conflicted.

“Garrus?” she asked, trying not to feel hurt.

“Sorry, sorry…” Garrus brushed him thumb along her lower lip. “That’s normal? Touching tongues?”

Her brow furrowed. “Very. What’s wrong? You haven’t had any problem using your tongue anywhere else.” She tried not to shudder remembering just how well he had used his tongue. 

“Well, yeah, that’s… It’s just- Touching tongues is considered a bit… deviant.”

“Oh.” Shepard hoped the disappointment didn’t show in her face. She knew going in there would be compromises. And if tongue kissing was one of them, she’d just have to roll with it. 

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush. “But since you’ve already made me a deviant, let’s give that another shot.”

Shepard couldn’t help but laugh. She put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him again. She moved her lips slightly, intrigued that she could feel a difference in his plates from the scarred to the non scarred side. And she waited for him to make the move.

She felt the tip of his tongue caress her lips. They broke apart for just a moment to take a breath and went together again. This time he slipped his tongue in her mouth and slowly stroked her tongue with his. Shepard fought to keep still, not wanting to push him. It was almost painful how desperately she wanted to touch him, but she knew he needed to judge this on its own merits. 

Finally he pulled back. Shepard raked his eyes, hoping to get some idea of what he would say before he said it. 

But instead of speaking, Garrus brought their mouths together again eagerly, sliding his tongue against hers. Shepard returned the kiss impatiently, tugging on his cowl to bring him even closer. His moan told her he didn't mind being a deviant. But then again, neither did she. 

And so the lessons continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, the title of this fic has changed. I decided I wanted it a bit more personal for my Shepard. Sorry for any confusion!


	3. Date Night

The door to Shepard's cabin opened. Garrus didn't bother looking up, wanting to concentrate on the latest e-mail from his task force. There were days he felt like he had a hundred different jobs, advising the Primarch, dealing with his task force long distance and his role as gunnery chief on the Normandy. This was one of those days.

He assumed Shepard would understand if he didn't give her an enthusiastic greeting. An assumption he doubted when he heard a datapad crash into the wall above their bed. 

"Shepard?"

"Shit!" Shepard took a step down the stairs. "Sorry, didn't realize you were in here."

"What'd the datapad do to you?" 

Shepard walked over to him, to the small desk in the living area she told him to consider his. The chair wasn't all that comfortable, but he liked having a solid surface to work on. Leaning over, she slid her cheek against his mandible. 

"Just received an official answer from the Alliance brass," she said, sitting on the side of the bed. "They are denying my request for an Executive Officer to be assigned to the Normandy."

"You're kidding me," Garrus said, putting down his datapad. "You're drowning in paperwork."

"According to the message I got, since Normandy is operating with a skeleton crew and our missions are generally classified..." Shepard lay on her back, placing her hands on her stomach. "They don't feel that they have anyone with the appropriate skill and clearance level."

"Skill? You need someone to work the crew duty roster and deal with requisition requests, not detailed technical work or anything." Garrus just shook his head. He would never understand the Alliance. Never. 

She propped herself on her elbows. "We are never going to get to go on a real date, cause I am never going to have free time, ever. Again."

Garrus stood up then and sat next to her. "We will someday. We'll dress up, go to a bar, it'll be great," he said, nuzzling her neck.

For a moment, he felt Shepard just give in and not think. Those moments were rare and never lasted very long. Sooner than he'd like, Shepard broke their embrace. "Speaking of paperwork." She reached behind for the datapad she had thrown earlier. "We need to go over this."

"What is it?" Garrus asked. 

"Pressly had you fill out a bunch of forms when you joined the SR-1, right? New ship, new forms."

"You're joking. Those forms took more than an hour to fill out," Garrus said. 

"Wish I was. And I'm supposed to talk to you about your stipend," Shepard told him.

Garrus shifted uncomfortably. "Stipend?"

"You have an official role on this ship, unlike the SR-1. You get a stipend."

"The hierarchy is already paying me to be here, as a liaison," Garrus said. "I don't want the Alliance's credits."

Shepard sat up and glared at him. Honestly glared. The type of glare she gave Sovereign and Harbinger. "Garrus, if you refuse this stipend, I will have another three different forms to fill out. Please just sign it and fill in your bank account information."

"Right now?"

"Just... soon. It's payday on Friday and if this form isn't complete by then there's another form I'll need to deal with."

"And here I thought being the commander of a starship was supposed to be an exciting job."

"It is if you have an XO," Shepard said, her voice sad. "I miss Pressly. That man knew his paperwork."

"There's no one on the ship?" Garrus asked, putting his arm around her waist.

"The next ranking officer is Cortez, but he has his hands full with the armory, requisitions and being the shuttle pilot. He almost has as much paperwork as I do. I couldn't do that to him," Shepard sighed. 

"Traynor?"

"She's barely treading water dealing with all the com traffic."

"Then the answer is obvious." Garrus ran his talon down her arm. "Vega."

Garrus couldn't help being pleased at the genuine laugh he heard. 

"Oh god, have you ever read his mission reports? It would take more time correcting his work than doing it myself." Shepard looked at him and put her hand on his thigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come in and just complain all night." 

"You're fine, Shepard," Garrus said, letting his forehead rest on hers. After a minute, he stood up and clapped his hands. "Get up and grab all the paperwork you want to get done tonight."

"There's a definite difference between what I want to get done and what I can realistically complete, Garrus."

"Bring it all," Garrus said, picking up a few datapads of his own. "Let's get a change of scenery. We'll do paperwork together in the Observation Lounge. It'll be romantic."

"Romantic?"

"Exactly. We'll grab some food, put on some music, stare out at the stars."

"Hmm..."

Garrus slowly put his arms around her. "Maybe try to distract each other once in a while, and hope no one walks in..."

"We could always lock the door," Shepard said, sounding amused. 

"We could, but where's the fun in that?"

Shepard shook her head with a smile on her face. After grabbing her datapads, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

"It's a date."


	4. Loosening Up

James stalked into the observation lounge, needing a drink.

The doors opened and he saw Shepard and Garrus scoot away from each other on the couch, which probably meant they had just been making out. He understood the whole ‘when they mood stirkes’ concept, but damn, she did have her own cabin. Which would give them a lot more privacy. Then again, maybe that was the point. 

He wasn’t one to judge. 

“Hey Lola,” he said, heading straight to the bar. “Scars.”

“Jimmy,” Garrus said with a nod of his head. 

James looked through the impressive collection of alcohol and couldn’t find the bottle he wanted. “Where the hell is the rum?”

“I think we’re out,” Shepard said. James chuckled. She rarely drank herself, yet seemed to know the ship’s alcohol inventory at all times. Huh. Made sense, actually. A ship’s commander probably should have an idea how much their crew drank. James made a mental note to remember that when he had his own command. 

Denied of his rum, James grabbed a bottle of vodka and a shot glass. He wasn’t looking to get drunk, just take the edge off. After topping off the glass, James threw back the drink. Vodka always burned his throat, and he couldn’t help but grimace a bit. 

“Mind if I join you?”

Shepard gestured to the seat across from them. “Always welcome, Vega. You okay?”

James settled back and crossed his ankle at the knee. “Yeah, I think.”

“Spit it out, Vega.”

“I think I pissed off the Primarch somehow,” Vega admitted.

He watched Shepard and Garrus exchange a look. Shepard leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees. “Why do you think that?”

“Not sure, just got this feeling.”

“What happened?” Garrus asked, leaning back on the couch.

“I’m working in the armory, right? Primarch comes down, starts running laps. After a bit, walks over to me, asks if he can use the punching bag.”

“You tell him no?” Shepard asked, surprised. “You always let people use that bag.”

“Course I didn’t say no. Not my bag, just in my space. And it’s the freaking Primarch.”

Shepard raised her hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

“The guy’s been running ragged lately, no? So I asked him if he wanted to spar, maybe loosen up a little,” James said, going back to the bar for another shot. That’s when he noticed their faces. 

Shepard had her hand over her mouth and Garrus, well, James was shit at reading the guy’s expressions. Amused, if he had to guess. Yeah, definitely amused. He was getting better at this. 

“Jimmy… ah, how do I explain this to him, Shepard?” Garrus stood up and walked over to the bar. Grabbing a bottle of blue alcohol, Garrus added, “You basically hit on the Primarch.”

“What?” James slammed down the bottle of vodka. “No I didn’t! Just asked if the guy wanted to spar.”

“You also told him he should loosen up,” Shepard added. 

“I don’t follow,” James said, shaking his head and pouring another shot of vodka.

“How much should we tell him, Garrus? I don’t want to scar him for life.”

Garrus carefully poured himself a drink. “All you really need to know, Jimmy, is that telling a turian to loosen up is basically saying you want to have sex with them.”

“Huh.” James took a moment let this stink in. Then he shrugged. “Explains his reaction, then.”

“What’d he say?” Shepard asked.

“Just said he wasn't interested. Didn’t end up using the bag.”

“You want me to talk to him?” Garrus asked.

“Nah, I’ll explain it to him next time he’s down the in the bay,” James said, throwing back his shot. 

He sat back down and cracked his neck, ignoring the glare from Shepard. She hated that sound. A thought hit him. “Wait a minute…”

Shepard crossed her legs. “Something else?” she asked. 

James slowly looked between Shepard and Garrus. “You told Garrus to loosen up this morning.”

Garrus brought his hand to up to rub his neck while Shepard covered her mouth, looking like she was trying hard not to laugh. “Yeah… well…” Garrus said, glancing at the ceiling.

He thought about it some more. “Dios, you two tell each other to loosen up all the time!” He jumped up and went to pour himself another drink. 

How did that even work, really? With a turian and a human? What did loosening up have anything to do with anything? Did turians have that different parts than humans? Shit, he needed to be drunker to deal with this.

“Well, that’s just great,” Shepard said, not hiding her laughter anymore. “Now we have to think of a new code.

“I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” James threw back another shot. ”Least the Primarch’s not pissed at me.”

An awkward silence fell over the lounge. 

"Can we change the subject now?"

"Gladly."


	5. Omega Revelations

Once the fight was done, and they continued walking, Shepard decided to risk sending a message.  She turned her body, hoping that her companions wouldn't notice her omni-tool.

"Another message?" Aria said, rolling her eyes.  Shepard winced.  Of course Aria had noticed.

Nyreen looked over curiously but didn't say anything.

"Just letting my crew know I'm safe," Shepard said, not mentioning when she said 'my crew' she actually meant Garrus.  The idea of her being alone with Aria on Omega did not make Garrus happy at all, so she told him she would try to message him every four hours.

Shepard's head pounded a bit, the beginning of a headache.  Out of all the things she had to worry about, making sure Eve was safe, that Mordin had the tools he needed to complete the genophage cure, along with all the stupid errands Hackett had her running, placating her lover seemed miniscule.  But she cared for Garrus - so much that it sometimes scared her - so she would try. 

"You still fucking Archangel?" Aria asked casually.

"Archangel?" Nyreen asked.  "I remember that name.  Hotshot squad a while back, right?  Thought the mercs ganged up and took him out."

"They did," Aria said.  "But Shepard here rode up on her white horse and saved his ass.  So how is Garrus Vakarian doing these days?"

"Vakarian?" Nyreen asked.  "Garrus Vakarian was Archangel?"

Shepard looked at Nyreen in surprise.  "You know Garrus?"

"Never actually met him," Nyreen said, shrugging a shoulder.  "I dated his sister for a while, before I was shipped to the Cabals.  She had a lot to say about him."

Shepard noticed how Aria's lips pursed when hearing that news.  The asari certainly didn't like the idea of her ex-girlfriend being with anyone else, it seemed. 

"How do you even know about that, anyway?" Shepard asked Aria.  She and Garrus were very careful to be discrete.  The last thing she wanted was to be accused to favoritism or nepotism or looked down on because she had something that made her happy in the middle of the war. 

And Garrus made her very, very happy.

"Word of advice, Shepard," Aria said, turning around to look straight at her.  "The next time your turian wants to make grand statements like, 'I need you,' best not to do it within earshot of the fucking leaders of Eclipse and the Blue Suns." 

Shepard felt the color drain from her face.  "We had a deal, Aria.  You said if I unite the mercs, you'd take care of any bounty on Archangel's head."

"On Archangel's head, certainly," Aria said, crossing her arms over her chest.  "But the mercs know who he is and now they know exactly how to hurt him.  'I need you.'   Please.  From a turian?  He might as well shouted 'I love you' from the top of the presidium."

"That true?" Shepard asked Nyreen quietly.  The turian simply nodded.  Shepard wanted nothing more than to mull on that, but this certainly wasn't the time.  She pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on Aria.

"They won't hurt you now," Aria said with a bitter laugh.  "You're too important.  The mercs know they'll deal with me if one hair on your pretty little head is harmed.  But after the Reapers are dealt with?  You'll be considered fair game.  And I won't have any incentive to protect you."

"Threatening me while I'm trying to help you take back Omega doesn't seem very smart, Aria," Shepard said, her hands curling into fists.

Aria took a step closer and cupped Shepard's cheek with her hand.  "Now you know exactly why I wanted you here all by yourself.  You don't even have a way off this rock without my help.  We're a team, whether you like it or not.  And I'd like our partnership to continue after the war."

Shepard forced herself not to flinch and to simply hold Aria's steady gaze.  "We're all doing things we never thought we'd do because of the Reapers.  I haven't abandoned my morals yet, Aria.  You're still you." 

"That's the beautiful thing about morality.  Once you've bent and twisted it a bit, you can never get it back quite the way it was.  You've crossed a few lines, Shepard," Aria chuckled and leaned forward, whispering into Shepard's ear.  "And you won't ever be able to uncross them."

Shepard stepped back, not even caring she just lost their little power struggle.  "It's been more than a year and a half since Archangel was on Omega.  Don't they have more important things to deal with?"

Aria laughed.  "You had Zaeed Massani on your ship for how long?  Mercs are _obsessed_ with revenge.  Twenty years that bastard waited for his moment, and you stole it from him."

Shepard started walking again, not bothering to see if Aria and Nyreen were following.  "I made it up to him," she muttered to herself, thinking of the information that Liara found on Santiago that lead to Zaeed catching up with him once and for all.

"Massani's a good lay, you know.  Surprised he actually didn't make a move on you," Aria said with a laugh.  The thought of Zaeed flirting stopped Shepard in her tracks.  "Be just his style.  Make him lose his chance at revenge and then gets you into bed for a spite fuck."

This time is was Nyreen who looked unhappy; her mandibles trapped close to her face.  Shepard sighed.  Save her from star-crossed lovers.

Shepard took a breath and gathered her thoughts.  She wouldn't let Aria's threats slide.  She couldn't.  Shepard took a step into Aria's personal space, straightening her spine, to give her another inch or so of height.  She looked down at Aria dismissively.

"This war is giving you the chance to go legit, Aria.  I've seen  the plans you're making with Hackett.  Even half of them work, and the Alliance will be on its knees in gratitude at the end.  You'll have respect.  _My_ respect if things go well," Shepard said.  "I can make things happen for people I respect.  Are a handful of mercs hell bent on revenge worth losing that?"

"You make an interesting argument," Aria said, almost thoughtfully.  “I won’t deny that the thought of a grateful Alliance is… appealing.”  Aria took a small step forward so they were almost nose to nose.  “A grateful Shepard… even more so.”

Shepard let out a bark of a laugh.  “Not that grateful, Aria,” she said, strolling past the asari, but letting their shoulders brush.  She was ready to get back to the fight.   The sooner they found what they needed, the better.  “I am fucking Archangel, after all.”  


	6. Forceful Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tumblr prompt was 'forceful kiss.'

“Oh damn!” Vega said, sounding half horrified. “Scars is gonna be in trouble…” Cortez looked up from his workstation. Vega turned around from his station, omni-tool out. “Esteban, you see this shit?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, Mister Vega,” Cortez said. “Care to enlighten me?”

Vega walked over, well, half ran over to Cortez. “Look at this,” he said, throwing his omni-tool screen up on the wall. A reporter from Westerlund News stood in the screen.

“Looks like it’s not just work and war for Commander Shepard these days,” the reporter said gleefully. “There have been rumors about the commander’s love life for quite some time, but her only statement to that regard has been ‘no comment.’ Well, we’re quite curious to know what she has to say to this!”

The vid switched to a hallway, one of the nicer apartment areas on the Presidium. The footage was grainy, no doubt hastily thrown together video surveillance. Garrus and Shepard stepped into view. Garrus seemed to be searching for a specific spot on the wall. He crooked a finger and Shepard stood against the wall, her face scrunched up, her head tilted.

The footage was visual only, so Cortez couldn’t hear the words Garrus and Shepard were saying to each other, but they seemed heated. Cortez glanced at the time stamp. Yesterday evening, so probably right after he picked Shepard up from Aria’s fleet.

“It’s about to get good,” Vega said in a low voice.

Shepard was clearly getting annoyed with the conversation. She took a step away from the wall, but Garrus pushed her back up against it and they started kissing roughly. It was strange, watching the kiss, with two mouths that were never meant to fit together. But there was a practiced ease to their movements.

Garrus’ hands gripped Shepard’s waist tightly and Cortez smirked, knowing what that meant to turians. He had dated a turian for a few months before he met Robert. And unlike Shepard and Garrus, Cortez never really bothered with kissing.

During this, Shepard grabbed the collar of Garrus’ armor, clearly trying to get as close to him as possible. After a good twenty seconds, the kiss stopped and Garrus rested his brow against Shepard’s, who took his hands in hers.

It was no secret on the  _Normandy_ that Shepard and Garrus were a couple. But watching them like this, not even the kiss, but just the way they looked at each other after, seemed like a gross invasion of privacy. So much that Cortez felt the need to look away.

Behind Cortez and Vega, the cargo bay doors opened. “Cortez, I need to check…”

Vega clumsily shut off his omni-tool and Cortez looked down at his console, feeling a hint of guilt.

“Hey, Lola…”

Cortez risked a look at Shepard, who looked more amused than anything else. “Think the entire galaxy has seen that yet?” she asked. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Garrus said he knew a couple of spots on the Presidium that weren’t covered in surveillance cameras. A C-Sec Officer thing.”

“They change them since Scars was a cop?” James asked.

“Nope. Apparently, it’s incredibly easy to introduce a VI into the Citadel’s surveillance system,” Shepard said, shaking her head. “And more than one news outlet has one tracking every move I make on the damn Citadel. Who knew?”

“What are they going to do about it?” Cortez asked.

“Nothing,” Shepard said. “Bailey says they don’t have the man power to deal-“ Shepard stopped talking when her omni-tool beeped.

As she checked her message, James said, “That’s messed up. No one should be able to access the surveillance like that.”

“Agreed,” Cortez said. He was about to ask a question when Shepard started laughing. Hard. Hard enough to reach out to balance herself against the wall.

“You gonna let us in on the joke, Lola?”

“You guys remember Ashley, right?” Shepard said, still smiling. “She just saw the footage from Huerta and reminded me about a conversation we had once.”

“About?”

“How kissing turians wouldn’t be necessary on our mission,” Shepard said, her eyes bright as she walked to the weapons bench. “Shows what she knows.”

 


	7. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the coup attempt at the Citadel, Shepard decides Garrus needs a pick-me-up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tumblr prompt fic. This one was Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.

As Garrus had told her earlier, it had been a hell of a day. But for all that had happen, she was in a surprisingly good mood. Cerberus hadn’t stood a chance once the Normandy arrived. And that bastard, Kai Leng… Well, he showed his true colors when he ran like he did. 

She strode into her cabin, feeling her face flush slightly at the sight of Garrus reading a datapad on the couch. He had been doing this more and more lately, spending his free time in her cabin even when she wasn’t there. She had told him a while back to consider the loft his space as well, and it pleased her more than she could say that he finally was. 

The look he gave her as she sat down next to him was one of weariness. 

“I knew close to half those officers Cerberus killed,” Garrus said, shaking his head. “Either by sight or by name.” He threw his datapad down on the couch. “Damn it, Shepard.”

She moved so that she was straddling him and carefully brought her brow next to his. He squeezed her waist and for just a moment they simply let each other be. 

Then Shepard jumped out of his lap. The last thing she wanted was to compound Garrus’ sadness with her own. Not when Thane’s prayer rested heavy on her shoulders. They needed a pick me up.

Shepard walked over to the room’s omni-panel and flipped through the menu, looking for a specific song. When she found it, a smirk settled on her face.

“I know that look,” Garrus said, arms resting across the back of the couch. “What are you planning?”

“Me, plan?” Shepard asked. “Never.” She pressed the touchscreen and music filled the room.

Once Garrus recognized it, he groaned. “Seriously, Shepard?”

She started dancing towards him slowly, her steps not even close in time to the techno beat. “Heard this song is a great way to seduce someone,” Shepard said, holding out her hand towards him. Her feet kept moving to their own private beat. “Might have even worked on me once.”

“Really.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Seem to remember someone turning off the music at the absolute first opportunity.”

Shepard raised her arms over her head, stretching her torso in a way that always got Garrus’ attention. “Hey, it set the mood.” 

“Right,” he snorted. He reached for her hand. “Get down here.”

“Oh no, Vakarian,” Shepard said, trying to imitate a hip swivel she’d seen Tali do once. She failed miserably. Garrus looked like he was going to bust his gut trying not to laugh. “You get up here.”

“You want me to dance with you?” 

Shepard nodded as she attempted a complicated turn that was a staple in Miranda’s moves. She had to put her hand on the coffee table to regain her balance. “Damn right I do,” she told him. 

He feigned a long suffering sigh. “Fine,” he said, putting his hand in hers. Shepard helped him to his feet.

Instead of dancing to the beat, Garrus drew her into his arms. Shepard relaxed against him, letting him set their rhythm. They slowly swayed back and forth. “What,” Shepard said, “Not willing to really dance? Afraid I’ll show you up?” 

“Hardly,” Garrus said. “This is for the good of the galaxy, Shepard. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep at it. We can’t have that.” 

Shepard laughed and linked her hands behind his neck. “Fine,” she told him. “Plenty of other ways for me to show you up anyway.”

“Oh really,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “In what subjects could Commander Shepard possibly school Advisor Vakarian?”

She grinned. “Shooting… The bedroom…”

Through her uniform, Shepard felt Garrus nip her shoulder lightly. “You seriously think you can out shoot me?” Garrus asked. 

“That’s what you take from what I said?” Shepard laughed, unlatching the chest piece of his armor. “You’ll just have to prove some day that you can beat my aim.”

Garrus put his gloved hands on her cheeks. “Well, maybe I will.”

“You do that,” she said, her mind thinking of much more important matters. They were both far too clothed for her liking.

“Now for your other challenge,” Garrus said, taking his gloves off one at a time. “That I think we can settle right now…”


	8. Nicknames

“What do you think of honey?”

Shepard looked up from her datapad. On the other couch, Garrus sat cross legged, holding a datapad of his own. He looked expectantly towards her. “Um… I’m for it, I guess,” Shepard said, trying to find the line she was reading on her pad. She had forty-three former Cerberus scientists and their families currently on the ship and the datawork was atrocious.

Garrus seemed content with her answer and a comfortable silence settled over her quarters as they worked. But a few minutes later, Garrus asked, “What about pumpkin?”

Not bothering to look up this time, Shepard answered, “Love the smell, don’t really like the taste.”

“Sugarplum?”

She held back a sigh and put her datapad next to her. There’d be no getting work done until Garrus got whatever it was out of his system. “I don’t even know what that is,” Shepard said honestly.

Flicking his mandibles in a thoughtful motion, Garrus brought up his omni-tool. Shepard slid across the couch and pushed his arm out of the way as she straddled his lap. Heat radiated from his body and Shepard leaned forward, glad he wore civilian clothes instead of armor.

“Why are you asking strange questions?” Shepard asked, nuzzling his neck as he placed his palms on her ass.

Garrus let out an embarrassed thrum, piquing Shepard’s interest even more. “Why do human nicknames seem to revolve around food?” he asked finally.

Shepard sat straight up and furrowed her brow. “Nickname? You want to give me a nickname?”

“Well, Jimmy has one for you,” Garrus said, scratching the side of his neck. Shepard looked, and thought perhaps she might see a twinge of blue in his neck. Had she made him blush at last? “Thought it might be nice if I had one of my own. Something no one else can call you.”

Shepard bit her lower lip and placed her hands on either side of his neck, tracing nonsense patterns with her fingertips. She never really thought of what Garrus’ opinion of James’ ridiculous nickname for her. Half the time she heard it, Shepard wanted to shut it down and say ‘Enough.’ But it had been too long since it started.

“You know, Garrus, you are the one person in the world that I wouldn’t mind using my first name,” Shepard said tentatively. She had been called Shepard for as long as she could remember. But somehow she didn’t mind the idea of hearing her given name spoken by Garrus.

But Garrus shook his head adamantly. “I want something I can call you in front of other people,” Garrus said. At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Off duty, of course. I’d never call you by your first name in public. Privately, though…”

Shepard relaxed as Garrus pulled her flush against him and whispered her given name in her ear. The name sounded wrong, even in Garrus’ voice. It simply wasn’t her.

Running his palm over her shaved head, Garrus said, “I think I’ll be sticking with Shepard. That just felt… strange.”

“I know what you mean,” Shepard said. “It’s like me calling you Vakarian. It doesn’t fit.” She thought for a moment. “What about turian nicknames?”

“That’s something turians never did. Parents name their children what they want them to be called,” Garrus said.

“Somehow I should have realized that about turians,” Shepard said dryly. She brought her hand up and pressed it gently against his scarred mandible. “So what’ll it be, Scars?”

“I sort of like ‘honey’ _especially_ after reading some of its more… creative uses,” Garrus said. Shepard heard a hint of desire sneak into his subvocals and couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe they’d have to try being creative with honey one of these days. “I’m also partial to ‘sweetie,’”

“I don’t think you’ll find many people who think I’m sweet, Garrus,” Shepard said with a laugh.

“They don’t know you like I do,” Garrus said as he ran a talon down her spine. He sounded so sincere Shepard had to smile. “So those are the two winners I think.”

Shepard shook her head. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine a day when Garrus would actually be willing to call her by a nickname in public. But she supposed stranger things had happened. “I’ll allow it.”

“Or…” Garrus said, sounding thoughtful.

Shepard cocked her head, but before she could respond, Garrus grabbed her waist, picked her up and had her flat on her back on the sofa. “Garrus!” Shepard said, laughing as he squeezed her waist.

He leaned over her, so their faces weren’t quite touching. “Or I could just call you what you are,” he said, his voice suddenly serious.

“Which is?” Shepard asked, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer. She could feel his breath on her lips.

“The love of my life,” Garrus said, his voice reminding Shepard of the Presidium and him asking if she was ready to be a one-turian kind of woman. The words made her wonder for the umpteenth time just how the hell she got so lucky to have Garrus with all the insanity around them. She might never know, and she right now, she simply didn’t care. She had _him._

“That,” Shepard said, snaking her arms around his neck and whispering the words into his mouth, “I’ll definitely allow.”


	9. Teenage Mutant Valluvian Vakels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a birthday fic for the wonderful [servantofclio](http://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio).

"What in the world are you watching?"

Garrus straightened up immediately as he opened his omni-tool. Too late. Shepard had already seen plenty of what he had thrown up on the wall to watch. He knew it was a silly indulgence, especially during war time, but sometimes, he just needed the escape.

"Was that a cartoon?" Shepard asked, walking down the stairs into her cabin.

"Ah, yeah," Garrus said, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. "One of my favorites from when I was a kid."

Instead of scoffing like he expected, Shepard smiled widely and plopped down on the sofa next to him. "I've got some free time, let's watch."

"Really?" Garrus asked, hearing the hope in his sub-vocals. Shepard nodded eagerly and he knew then she wasn't just humoring him. Flaring out his mandibles in a grin, he started up the show again and then settled his arm around Shepard's shoulders.

"So what are we watching?" Shepard asked as a view of Cipritine came up on the screen. Four large turianoid vakels, each wearing a different colored mask, holding a different weapon, stood on top of a tall building.

"It's called _Teenage Mutant Valluvian Vakels,_ " Garrus said eagerly. "It's actually based on an Earth show called --"

" _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,_ " Shepard said with a laugh. "I watched the 2k151 version when I was little. I didn't realize other races remade it."

"I've seen an asari version, a salarian version and even a volus version," Garrus said, looking at the screen. The Vakels were fighting members of a street gang who refused to go into military service. "The volus version is actually pretty good, but there's no fighting. It's all negotiating or enforcing embargos on other clans."

"They look like human sloths almost," Shepard said, her eyebrows raised. "Bet those spikes on their backs come in handy."

"You have no idea," Garrus said quickly. "In this one episode-"

"Let's just watch," Shepard said, patting him on the knee.

The scene changed and the Vakels walked through what seemed to be an old abandoned warehouse. 

"So that's April?" Shepard asked, looking at the young female turian wearing a yellow ribbon around her neck.

"Appria," Garrus corrected. "In this version, she's thirteen and has two years to go until basic." Appria jumped up and welcomed the Vakels back to the lair. "I had the biggest crush on her when I was seven."

"I can see why," Shepard said, tilting her head. "She's pretty cute. So what are the Vakel's names?"

"Uh, Iulius, Marcus, Ninus and Palius," Garrus said. "They're based on titan mythology. Iulius is the leader, Marcus is the muscle, Ninus does the tech and Palius eats a lot."

A new person came onto the screen, wearing deep purple robes, holding his antlered head high.

"That's totally Master Splinter, isn't it?" Shepard said. "What kind of animal is that? He's a like a deer and mole hybrid, I like it."

"He's a Bevillin. Goes by the name, 'The Unspoken of One," Garrus said. "He's a former Priest of Valluvian, and he teaches the Vakels the old ways."

"Tell me he uses those antlers in a fight," Shepard said.

"It's so cool when he does," Garrus said.

The next scene started and Garrus cringed as two humans appeared. He glanced over at Shepard, her eyebrows raised considerably. "Are those supposed to be humans?" she asked.

The two humans were tall, but almost volus shaped, with no neck and comically large ears. Instead of speaking, they simply yelled at each other the entire time. "You've got to remember, Shepard, this show was made maybe three years after the Relay 314 incident."

"Ah, stereotypes," Shepard said with a sigh. "Well, back then turians were portrayed as spiky monsters, so I guess I shouldn't be insulted."

Garrus and Shepard watched the rest of the show in silence, as the Vakels defeated the humans trying to poison Cipritine's water supply.

"That was pretty good," Shepard said once the show was over. "I can see why you like it."

"It's simple," Garrus said. "Black and white. Good guys win and the bad guys lose."

"Wish everything was that easy," Shepard said with a sigh. Garrus felt her try to snuggle closer to him, which he can't say he minded. "Got time for another?"

"Gladly," Garrus said, queuing up the episode. "In this one, we meet Scintilla, who was The Unspoken of One's best friend in basic training--"

"Shh..." Shepard said, leaning her head on Garrus' shoulder. "Why don't we just watch and see what happens?"

And so they did.


	10. Kiss in the Rain

Shepard stood with her back pressed against Garrus’. Well, stood was being generous. Being propped up by was far more accurate. Fuck, her head hurt. She hadn’t been this hungover in a long time. But last night made every minute of torture today worth it.

She raised her Paladin, before holstering it again. Too damn heavy, Shepard thought. She’d make it through the fight with just her omni-tool. “What are you hoping for?”

“Cerberus,” Garrus said at once, reloading his Black Widow. The vibrations ran through her entire body and Shepard reached behind her, grabbing Garrus’ waist guard. “How,” Shepard asked, turning around and resting her cheek against the cool metal of his armor, “are you even capable of lifting that thing this morning?”

They were both hungover, though Garrus far less so, recovering from their outing to the Silver Coast Casino last night. There were muscles Shepard didn’t realize she even had that ached thanks to that tango. Plus the encore performances. Garrus certainly had that right.

It was much, much, better in bed.

“Beauty of turian evolution, you know that,” Garrus said. Shepard could hear the smirk in his voice. “Not my fault humans can’t hold their liquor.”

“So here’s what I think we should do,” Shepard said, as the announcer started the count down. “You find a perch, I’ll bring out Piper and The Shrike, and go to the corner and take a nap.”

“Gimme one round before you give up,” Garrus challenged. This had been Garrus’ idea. Go run a few rounds at Arsenal Arena in easy mode, clearing their heads, before they spent the afternoon and evening apart. Garrus working with the turian refugees, while Shepard lunched with Traynor, before meeting with Javik this afternoon and Tali tonight. At the time, Shepard agreed. Now, she wished they were in bed, just relaxing. 

“Fine,” Shepard said as she heard the telltale buzz of the Collectors. “But only because I hate these guys.”

With a flick of her wrist, she released her combat drone, Piper, who immediately went after the the closest Collector. Shepard let off a quick Incinerate before Piper finished the Collector off.

“Scratch one!” Garrus said joyfully next to her.

“Why don’t you ever talk like that during fights anymore?” Shepard asked, letting off a Cryo Blast. The Collector froze and collasped a moment later, thanks to Garrus’ headshot.

“Doesn’t feel right,” Garrus said, reloading the Black Widow. “When we were facing mercs, sure. I didn’t mind crowing over them. But now…”

“I hear that,” Shepard said as she brought out her turret, The Shrike. “It’s different facing husks and Cerberus-”

“Who might as well be husks…”

Thanks to easy mode, the fight went quickly. They only had two Collectors left when the arena suddenly went dark. “The hell,” Shepard said, though she was actually grateful for the darkness. Made her head sting a bit less. Garrus’ had his hand on her shoulder almost at once.

“Guess you get that nap after all,” Garrus laughed.

shhrk We’re having some technical difficulties… shhrk Please stand by and you shhrk match will resume shortly…

The volus’ voice sounded fairly panicked. Shepard wondered if all the different arenas were having the same problem. But she stopped caring once she felt Garrus’ arms wrap around her waist. She waved her omni-tool arm and Piper and The Shrike disappeared, leaving them in complete darkness.

“Hey,” Shepard whispered into his neck. She stood on her tip toes and kissed the soft hide underneath his jaw.

“Hey yourself,” Garrus said, just as softly. “Found a better way to pass the time instead of napping?”

“Maaaaybe,” Shepard said, drawing out the word. Raising her head, she readied herself for a kiss when she suddenly felt water pouring over their heads. The sprinklers must have malfunctioned.

“Oh you’ve got to be joking,” Garrus said with a groan.

Shepard, for her part, simply laughed and kissed him. That quieted Garrus at once. Shepard took her time, feeling the water on his face plates against her cheeks. Rivets rolled down his face, off his mouthplates, and onto her lips. With her tongue, she slowly traced his mouthplates, licking up any errant drops.

But then Garrus slid his tongue in her mouth and nothing mattered except that. Not when the sprinklers stopped, or when the lights suddenly came back up. Shepard heard one of the remaining Collectors moving towards their position. Garrus started to back away, but Shepard grabbed his collar with one hand, and kissed him hard.

With her free hand, Shepard brought out her drone again as they continued to kiss. She and Garrus had better things to do than fight right now. Piper could finish the match.

It was easy mode, after all.


	11. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus and Shepard share a quiet moment before the run to beam.

"On our way to your location."

Shepard lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. The waves of reaper troops has finally stopped and she's ready to admit she's tired. Garrus and Javik walk up to her as she looks around the ruble of London.

"We have a couple of minutes to catch our breath," she tells them.

Javik crouches down and lowers his head while Garrus stands next to her, leaning on a wall. Shepard fishes out a couple of ration packs from the casing in her suit. Two levo, one dextro. She always carries dextro supplies just as Garrus always carries levo.

It's a testament to how exhausted Javik must be that he accepts the bar without hesitation and eats it eagerly. She's never seen him eat before. Garrus' bar is gone in three bites, and hers almost as quickly.

Shepard feels Garrus' arm on her waist as he brings her in close. She leans against him and rests her head on his cool metal chest piece. Normally Shepard would never allow a display like this in a war zone. Then again, normally Garrus wouldn't either.

Her mind is going a million miles an hour, wondering how many people are dying as they wait. How many ships they're losing. If they end up beating the reapers, would there even be enough people left to rebuild?

And then she forces herself to stop.

Mordin told her once that he needed to personalize the fight to make sense of the coming battle. That's what she needs to do now. Before, she might have been fighting some grand cause, trying to save everyone in the galaxy. Refusing to accept 'ruthless calculus.' She glances at the beam. But for this fight, this specific fight, she needs to fight for _him._

For them.

"So Garrus," she says quietly, not wanting Javik to overhear. Shepard takes a breath and tries to memorize every inch of his face, "if you want me to have your scary hybrid babies, you going to marry me first?"

The look on his face breaks her heart; it's so full of love, trust... and hope. He taps her nose with one of his knuckles, with a tenderness she never would have dreamt possible of him four years ago. "No knocking our mutant spawn, Shepard," he says gently. "They'll be beautiful."

"Yeah," Shepard says, her voice breaking," they would be."

She thinks of the future they'll never have. And Shepard can tell by the distressed hum coming deep from his chest he's thinking the same thing. Sometimes, late at night, when Garrus was curled around her, she let herself dream of that future. Not of hybrid or krogan babies though. She wanted strong turian children. Like him. She wanted to give a future to some angry orphans.

He runs his hand over her shaved head. "But, yeah, to answer your question... That's the first thing I'm doing when this is over. Proposing. I watched vids." He leans forward and touches his brow to hers. Their eyes meet and she feels a jolt of electricity. His voice is low and gravely and pierces her in her core. "So you better have your answer ready."

"I will," she says, and the words hang between them as a promise.

She knows it will be time soon. She can hear the sound of Anderson's convoy approaching. The proper thing to do is to get to the front and be ready to meet them the moment they step off the tank. But Shepard simply can't tear herself away from Garrus. They might only have minutes left together. So for once in her life, Shepard decides to be selfish.

She disrupts the crew.

Shepard places her hands on either side of his neck and pulls him in for one last kiss. His arms tighten around her and he returns the kiss.

The convoy stops and she hears soldiers getting out of the tanks. She tries to block it out and think only of the feeling of his mouth plates next to her lips, his tongue against hers, their lives entwined.

The soldiers around them are probably staring, but she finds she simply doesn't care.

The kiss ends and he slides his scarred mandible against her cheek. Shepard doesn't have a mandible to return the gesture, but like him and kissing, she does the best she can.

"Shepard." Anderson is calling her. From the sorrow in his voice, she knows he's sorry to be pulling her away. It dawns on Shepard that in all the time Anderson has known her, more than fifteen years now, this is the first time he's ever seen her in love. She wonders how it looks on her.

Garrus walks with her to the admiral, their hands brushing as much as decorum allows. Discussion ensues. Harbinger beckons. The Crucible is ready.

It's time.

Their eyes meet and their hands find each other once more. A quick squeeze, a reminder that there's No Shepard without Vakarian. Garrus takes a step back, at her six until the end.

And they run.


	12. Sweet Pea- delicate pleasures

**Sweet pea- delicate pleasures**

Somehow Shepard managed to make it through the CIC without anyone noticing the bag she carried. She had given the crew forty-eight hours of shore leave after the whole mess on the Citadel with the coup. Of course, she had no time for an actual leave herself, not with all the datawork to be done and statements to be made and the heavy knowledge that yet another member of her crew died under her watch. Thane might not have been active on the Normandy, but he was still her crew. And it still hurt like a son of a bitch that he died.

But even in everything that needed to be done, Shepard took an hour for herself and went to Epidermis, truly one of her favorite stores on the Citadel.

And no one paid her to say that, either.

The crew probably wouldn’t judge her purchases, rosemary lotion and body wash that smelled like lemon grass. She even found a turian lotion, made specifically for their hide and between their plates. Hopefully Garrus liked the smell of pine trees.

Shepard walked into her quarters, pleased to see Garrus sitting at what she now considered his desk, the one by the couch. His mandibles spread into a smile when their eyes met, causing her stomach to jumble a bit.

“I’m getting naked,” Shepard announced as she started to strip.

“You now have my complete attention,” Garrus said, standing up and walking over to her. “Am I getting naked, too?”

“I’m going to take a shower if you want to join me,” Shepard said, shimmying out of her trousers.

Garrus immediately started to unbuckle his tunic. “Don’t have to ask me twice,”

Once she stood naked, Shepard dug into the shopping bag, grabbing a shower bomb. She handed it Garrus, now shirtless. “That smell okay to you?” she asked.

He took a cautious sniff, probably still remembering when she made him try dextro peanut butter, before shrugging his shoulders. “Not too bad.”

“Good,” Shepard said, bringing the shower bomb up to her own nose. It smelled of eucalyptus and menthol and the salesperson promised it would help ease stress. Shepard was willing to try anything these days.

She started the shower, turning the temperature up as high as she could stand it, for Garrus’ sake. And once he joined her in the bathroom, Shepard dropped the shower bomb down on the tiles.

It started fizzing as once and Shepard forced herself to take a deep breath as the water poured over her. The heat felt delicious against her tired muscles, especially her shoulder.

“So what’s the point of that thing?” Garrus asked. Shepard relaxed against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“It’s supposed to help with stress relief, leading to a higher state of relaxation,” Shepard said with a laugh, remembering just how hard the salesperson worked her.

The scent was strong, but not overpowering. Shepard kept breathing deeply, even as Garrus’ hands inched their way down her torso.

“I can help you relax,” Garrus whispered in her ear, his subvocals low and his talons stroking between her legs.

Shepard laughed, a real bright laugh as she turned around and tugged on his collar, bringing his mouth plates to her lips. As he told her once, there was more than one way to relieve stress. 


	13. Multi-tasking

There were times, Shepard hated to admit, that she was jealous of her crew. With a few notable exceptions - the turian she was supposed to meet five minutes ago being one of them - most of the crew looked at a trip to the Citadel as a chance to relax. To unwind and enjoy themselves.

Shepard? She barely ever had a chance to sit down the moment she stepped foot off the _Normandy_. There were people to help, deliveries to complete, decisions apparently only she could make. But every time she told someone that she found what they needed, she stood a little straighter. No one would ever say that Commander Shepard didn’t give her all to win this war.

The elevator doors opened and Garrus was standing - lounging more like it - against the rail of the taxi. His mandibles widened in a grin when he saw her. But slackened the moment he realized she was going to walk past him.

She held up her hands apologetically. “I just need one minute, Garrus, then I’m all yours, promise,” Shepard told him. Garrus nodded and brought up his omni-tool.

Walking as quickly as decorum allowed, Shepard made her way to the Alliance soldier who needed the Prothean data drives. While she was glad to help everyone, assisting the Alliance Engineering Corps was special. It had been her dream to be a part of them once, before she was recruited for the N7 program. Secretly, barely ever acknowledged in her heart, if she was alive when this war was over, she was going to join them, politics be damned. Just be Shepard, structural engineer, instead of Commander Shepard, combat engineer.

The soldier quickly left once he had the drives. Shepard took a moment to lean against the wall and catch her breath. She was looking forward to spending some time with Garrus off of the ship. Even though they slept in the same bed almost every night, lately, it felt that they barely had any time to spend together. She knew Garrus felt it too. There were times when he looked at her that she felt he was on the cusp of saying something. But he never did.

Shepard closed her eyes. He deserved all of her, not just the convenient moments when she could fit him into her schedule. She could do better. She _would_ do better.

She didn’t know what he had planned, if he was just hoping for an hour of fun or serious discussion about the future. Either way, she’d find a way to tell him. Let him know she wanted to promise him forever, whether forever ended tomorrow or a hundred years from now.

She took a breath and started walking towards him. Garrus put away his omni-tool once he saw her. Their eyes met, and Shepard felt herself smiling.

Garrus grinned right back. “Shepard, glad you came…”


	14. Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was Liara and Shepard, 'innocence.'

Shepard looked down at the terminal, her fingers languidly brushing over the interface. “Why would you offer me this, Liara and call it a gift?”

Liara brought her hand to her throat. “You’ve always cared so deeply for your crew, Shepard. I thought it only natural you would want to know what information I could find.”

The lighting in the Shadow Broker’s ship was harsh, unforgiving. There was even a chill in the air; yahgs must have a lower temperature than humans. “You’ll let me read Aria’s file, even Hackett’s, but not your own? Not mine?”

“I haven’t found…”

“Bullshit,” Shepard said, taking a step away from the terminal. She didn’t want to be on this ship anymore. Not with the temptation of the terminal in front of her. She had no right – _no_ right – to the secrets that lay within.

“I appreciate the trouble you’ve gone to, Liara, but I’ll pass,” Shepard said, forcing each word out of her mouth. It would be so easy to simply bring up the interface and start digging. “Why don’t we grab that drink on the _Normandy_?”

“Are you sure, Shepard?” Liara asked softly. “Garrus’ file is particularly illuminating.”

Shepard closed her eyes. That wasn’t fair. Now that they’d started a real relationship instead of just easing tension, Shepard wanted to know _everything_ about Garrus. But not this way. She wanted to know the things he was ready to tell her.

She took a breath. “I’m sure,” she said finally, turning her back on the terminal so it was out of view. Someday she’d tell Garrus about Liara’s offer and ask what might have been in the file. Someday. “Let’s get that drink.”


	15. Birthday Present

“So I think I messed up,” Garrus says at the threshold of Shepard’s cabin.

Shepard’s lying across her bed, with a datapad, attempting to relax. An attempt just ruined by her boyfriend. Feeling stress permeate her skin, she sits up. “Everything okay?” she asks warily.

“Ash just told me your birthday was yesterday and I should have gotten you a gift,” he says, walking gingerly down the stairs.

“It’s really not important -” 

Garrus sits on the bed and scoots up the mattress so he’s sitting next to her. Maybe she should have told him, but in the grand scheme of things, a birthday just seems so insignificant.

“Well, I couldn’t run out an get you a gift, obviously,” Garrus says, ignoring Shepard’s words.

She leans back on the pillows and gazes at him. “I could be cheesy and say that you’re gift enough,” she says with a laugh. “Or that last night was enough.”

“Shepard, the day I consider going down on you the same as giving you a gift, is a day we have problems,” Garrus says, his voice low.

Biting her lip, Shepard let her fingers drag along his waist, knowing he could feel her touch through his civilian clothes. “Fair enough,” she says, increasing the pressure of her fingers.

“You going to let me give you this gift or not?” Garrus asks, leaning over her.

She’s tempted to say later, but there are butterflies in her stomach. He’s never given her a gift before. He’s bought her mods and apps for her omni-tool, but nothing like a gift for an actual occasion. She’s curious to know what it is.

“I’ll be good,” Shepard promises, removing her hand from his waist.

Garrus hands her a black frame, one that looks like his visor. “Here,” he says simply.

She holds the frame in her hand. “You got me a visor like yours?” she asks, putting the frame over her head. It doesn’t fit, the elongated shape is clearly meant to fit over a turian skull, not a human one.

“This is the visor I wore when we first met,” Garrus says softly. “Back on the Citadel.” He puts his hand over hers. “I’d like you to have it.”

She knows how much work he put into this visor, modding it so that it fit him perfectly. She remembers how nervous he was, asking if he could sync her hardsuit to his visor, so he could keep track of her vitals and kill count.

“Thank you,” Shepard says, pulling him down for a kiss. Placing her new treasure on the nightstand, Shepard decides to thank him with actions as well as words. 


	16. Apodyopis

Shepard looked down at her hands and tried to concentrate on the Primarch’s words. Important words. Words she should absolutely be listening to.

But Garrus sat across from her in the shuttle as they left Palaven. _Garrus._ Garrus who she hadn’t seen in six months. Garrus who she thought about every time she touched herself in the shower during her confinement. Garrus who took her hand in both of his while their planets were being ravaged and suddenly destroying the Reapers didn’t seem quite as an impossible task.

She had no idea how long it would be before she could get him alone. Work had to come first and the list of things to do kept growing. She had to check with Fitch to make sure enough dextro food was aboard until they had a chance to go back to the Citadel. Then she needed to see about going to the Castellus system, in case the rumors were true about the fuel caches. And Liara heard something about Eden Prime and Garrus was stretching his neck and suddenly nothing seemed nearly as important as remembering how he shivered when she gently sucked on the hide right below his crest.

Months had passed since she had seen him naked, months since her fingertips had teased the sensitive hide inside his collar or dragged down his carapace, leading to his waist. Shepard thought about his tunics, how impractical and unyielding they seemed and how they just took too damn long to take off. If they had a race, Shepard could be completely naked, boots included, before Garrus even had his tunic off.

But patience had its reward, she knew, thinking of his trousers, how she learned how to unfasten them, taking care not to let the fasteners catch on his hip spurs, or worse, the spurs on his calves. And those strange almost sock-like shoes, revealing his feet. The first time she saw them, for a moment, just a moment, she had wondered if they were too different, too _alien._ But in the end, those feet belonged to Garrus, and she wouldn’t change a thing about him.

_Especially_ his groin plates. Thin and flexible and the way they just moved like that, revealing his sheath and when he was worked up enough, his-

“Your thoughts, Shepard?”

Important words. Right.

Thoughts of her reunion with Garrus would just have to wait. They did have a war to win, after all. But as she glanced across at him, and he spread his mandibles out in a grin, Shepard desperately hoped it wouldn’t be _too_ long.


	17. Zinnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zinnia - I mourn your absence. Mild spoilers for the beginning of _Scattering Grief._

The _Normandy_ is in mourning.

Cortez takes another sip of his beer, watching the various crew members talk and drink and in one corner, dance. Not like any memorial he had ever been to before, but then again, Commander Shepard had been unlike any other commander he had known.

Williams ordered the memorial, saying the crew needed to grieve and hoping this might give them some closure. So tonight, an Irish wake, even though Shepard had no idea what nationality she was, and tomorrow, they’d place her name on the memorial wall.

And maybe someday they’d actually get off this rock and find their way back to earth.

“I took her up to the Presidium.” Cortez turns his head and listens to Garrus. He’s got a half a dozen crew members surrounding him, all looking enraptured as he talks. Garrus takes a long sip of some sort of alcohol and says, “She looked damn good holding a sniper rifle, I have to say. But before that, she told me…” Garrus’ words are slightly slurred and Cortez doesn’t think he’s imaging that he’s not quite steady on his feet. Garrus takes another drink. “That’s when I knew…”

Cortez stomach lurches. Garrus is about to fall apart, he can tell. He’s been there, damn, has he been there, thinking of the time Shepard found him in the cargo bay, tears streaming down his face as he listened to that recording. Turians don’t cry - no tear ducts. But they keel and from the undercurrent of Garrus’ subvocals, Cortez can tell he’s moments away from doing just that.

“Hey Garrus,” Cortez says, loud enough to be heard.

The words seems to wake Garrus up from sort of a reverie. Cortez stares at him while Garrus blinks once. Then twice. “Yeah, Cortez?”

“You ever fly a simulator drunk?” Cortez asks.

“Been years since I logged any flight time,” Garrus says.

Cortez slaps his thigh. “Then you’re overdue,” he says, standing up. “Let’s go run a sim in the shuttle.”

He knows humans in general think turians are expressionless and hard to read. But if you take the time, their faces can give you a wealth of information. The look Garrus gives him is a tad unfocused, but Cortez sees the understanding written across his features. “Sounds like a good idea, Cortez,” Garrus says finally, putting his drink down on the weapons console.

There’s a disappointment radiating from the people who had been listening to Garrus, but Cortez doesn’t care. There are moments in every relationship that need to stay private, in his opinion. And Garrus is such a private person to begin with, Cortez didn’t think the turian would be happy if he revealed too much.

They walk in silence to the backup shuttle and Cortez keys in the code to bring it to life. The door opens and Cortez says, “After you.” Garrus walks in and settles himself in the pilot’s seat while Cortez sits in the co-pilot’s. Cortez brings up the simulation panel and selects an easy one, just a basic transport with no surprises.

The simulation begins, but Garrus makes no move to take the controls. Instead, Cortez watches as Garrus slumps in his chair, cringing when his fringe hit the back of the seat designed only for humans. Cortez doesn’t mind the silence, it’s peaceful in the shuttle, he’s always thought so. And besides, he’s mourning Shepard, too.

“How did you do it, Cortez?” Garrus asks softly. Cortez breaks one of his rules and lifts his feet off the ground, placing them on the console in front of him. “How do you get over this?”

“You don’t,” Cortez answers, knowing honestly is the only thing that will work here. “I’m going to miss Robert every day for the rest of my life. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to live my life.”

“We were a team. Shepard and Vakarian.” Garrus puts his hand over his face. “And a fucking Mako took me out of the game. I should have been there with her. Til the end, I told her.”

Funny how Garrus put Cortez’s own thoughts right into words. “I felt the same way,” he says, a bit haltingly. He’s never been completely comfortable talking about emotions. “After Robert died. Shepard’s the one who helped me the most. She ever tell you about that?”

Garrus shakes her head. “She didn’t tell me other crew member’s personal business,” he says.

Cortez wonders if Shepard’s own words will give Garrus any comfort. “I told her I should have died with Robert,” he says, starting the flight simulator with a couple of key strokes. He keeps the speed of the shuttle slow enough not to cause a headache; he’s also had a bit too much to drink. “She told me that it was a good thing I was alive. I didn’t believe her at first.”

“So it’s a good thing that I’m alive and she’s dead, that what you’re trying to tell me, Cortez?” Garrus asks. There’s no malice in his words, Cortez realizes, just despair.

“I’m saying she’d want you alive,” Cortez says as he makes a turn. “It’s a tragedy that’s Shepard’s gone after all she’s done. But she would absolutely want you to be alive and experience the galaxy she gave her life to shape.”

“But it’ll be an empty one,” Garrus says so softly Cortez barely hears him.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Cortez says. “Everyone is going to need help once we get back to Earth. Think of all the good you’ll be able to do.”

It takes a moment to realize that Cortez just isn’t speaking to Garrus, he’s reminding himself. Robert’s been dead for almost two years now. And Cortez will have the rest of his life to experience this new galaxy once they make it back to Earth. It’s time he started.

“Let me take over control,” Garrus says after a moment. He sits up straight and Cortez sees that he looks more composed than he has all night. “I’ve got this.”

Cortez presses a few keys and cedes the simulation control to Garrus. “I know you do.”


	18. Baisemain - A kiss on the hand

“And that’s one more win for Chakita vas Paus!” Tali’s voice echoed loudly in the cargo bay.

Shepard all but stomped her foot as she disengaged her drone. Tali seemed to be attempting some sort of victory dance, which only added insult to injury. “You going to tell me what upgrade you used?”

Tali cocked her head. “Nope.”

“Throw Shepard a bone, Tali,” Garrus said. “Your drone just kicked Piper’s ass.”

“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Tali said. “I especially loved when Piper tried so hard to get through Chakita’s defenses and completely failed.”

Omni-tool up, Shepard looked at Tali. “I’m going to figure out what you did and then Piper is going to give Chakita a beat down she will never forget.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” Tali said with a laugh. Shepard glared at the quarian as she walked towards the elevator. “I’ve got to get back to engineering, but I’m glad we did this, Shepard.”

“Me, too, Tali,” Shepard said, meaning the words, even though she was still pissed she lost the drone fight.

“Let me guess,” Garrus said dryly. “You’re now going to ignore me for the next several hours while you try to upgrade Piper.”

Shepard nodded absently as she read over a drone mod that promised to increase the chain lightning damage by an extra two percent. That might just be enough to knock Tali off her high horse. There was a slight chance the mod might conflict with another program, but she’d risk it. With a few swipes, Shepard started downloading the mod.

And then her omni-tool exploded.

“Damnit,” she yelled, feeling the electricity shoot up her arm. The skin around her wrist started burning even after she threw the omni-tool to the ground.

Garrus was at her side with a first aid kit almost instantly. Medi-gel soothed the burn and the pain quickly, but not her pride. “I liked that omni-tool,” she said with a pout. “Gonna take some time to get my backup up to speed.”

“At least it wasn’t your field ‘tool,” Garrus said as he rubbed small circles onto her palm. “You okay?”

Shepard nodded and glanced around the cargo bay. No one paid them any attention. “Kiss it and make it better?” she asked with a smirk.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as Garrus brought her hand up to his mouth plates, pressing them gently against the palm of her hand. “Better?” he asked quietly.

Standing on her tip toes, Shepard placed her brow next to his. “Much,” she said, before taking a breath and stepping away. “But now I’ve got some mods to download.”


	19. Strikhedonia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strikhedonia - the pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it"

Shepard didn’t think they’d actually bring out the omni-cuffs.

She hadn’t been in cuffs since she fucked up with the 10th Street Reds and the Alliance took her in custody. Even though she had nothing to be ashamed off, just seeing the cuffs filled her with dread. “Is this really necessary?” she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

“Everything by the book,” an ensign told her. Damn, did he look young. “Anderson’s orders.”

Shepard closed her eyes as the ensign grabbed her shoulders, placing her wrists in the omni-cuffs. She could break out of them in seconds, if she wanted, but if Anderson and Hackett thought this was the way the game needed to be played, she’d comply. Anything they wanted, she’d do, if she thought they’d truly listen to her warnings.

She walked out of the _Normandy_ with her head held high, an Alliance soldier on either side of her. Shepard purposely wore civilian clothes for this, instead of Cerberus colors. Bad enough she walked off a ship painted yellow and black.

The sun blinded her a bit, didn’t let her see the throng of people waiting in the docks. But she heard them, oh did Shepard hear them. She heard the typical shouts from reporters, all desperate to catch of glimpse of _Commander Shepard_ in chains.

What she didn’t expect were the shouts of protesters. She had assumed Anderson and Hackett would want to keep her arrival quiet, a low-key affair. But perhaps this was their way of appeasing the batarians.

She felt a breeze against her cheek and turned her head towards the angry shouts. Her eyes had adjusted to the sun and Shepard saw the protesters, a mixture of different species: turian, batarian, hanar, salarian, asari and plenty of humans. Some held signs against Cerberus, but more held signs deriding her.

Part of her wanted to go over there, explain exactly what happened and why she made the choices she did.But she knew that would only start a panic, so instead she let her stomach fill with rocks until each step felt close to impossible.

The soldiers led her to an Alliance issued skycar. The doors opened and somehow Shepard wasn’t surprised to see Hackett waiting for her.

“Let’s get you out of those cuffs,” Hackett said the moment the door closed. A forcefield separated the backseat from the driver. They were alone as they possibly could be.

Shepard fiddled around with the cuffs and within seconds, she freed herself. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, leaning back in the lush leather seats. The Alliance never did spare any expense when it came to these things.

“Minimum security cell,” Hackett said, his voice more gruff than usual. “Best I could do.”

“When do I get to talk to JAG?” Shepard asked, hating the weariness she heard in her voice as she stared out the tinted windows.

There was no response.

“Of course,” Shepard said mirthlessly, tapping her fingers across her thigh. “Cerberus. I’m a terrorist now. No rights for me.”

Hackett gave her a hard look then, one that almost threw her back to being a recruit, stumbling her way through basic training. “I’ve pulled strings, Shepard, keeping Antella off of your ass for as long as I did. We could have arrested you anytime you stepped on the Citadel.”

“Understood,” Shepard said. Hackett didn’t deserve her anger, not when most of it was pointed inward. _Three hundred thousand people…_

Hackett gave her the lay of the land as they drove towards Headquarters. She learned which admirals might be willing to listen and which ones not to waste her time on. Every day would end up being an endless battle, trying to get everyone to open their eyes.

But what other choice did she have? The Reapers were on their way. The galaxy needed to prepare. Spending time in a minimum security cell seemed a small price to pay.

Much to Shepard’s relief, the car parked on the roof. She had seen the crowd of reporters below outside Headquarters, waiting for her. She didn’t need to go through the song and dance a second time today. Once was plenty.

“Cuffs?” Shepard asked Hackett as they parked.

“Until we get inside at least. You know there are cameras somewhere.”

Shepard felt her whole body sigh as she put her arms around her back. A few keystrokes later, omni-cuffs enclosed her wrists again. The skycar door opened and Shepard saw four soldiers waiting for her.

“These are your personal guards,” Hackett said. “Hand picked by Anderson. We’ve got Jackson, Chang, Vega and Naea.”

She nodded, not willing to give anything away, not when these men and women ensured she wouldn’t have any privacy while she was in custody. The guards looked young, too eager to impress. Shepard remembered when she looked the same way. Felt like a million years ago.

Hackett led her inside, the guards trailing them like good little soldiers. They passed military personnel and almost every single damned one of them did a double take. No words were spoken, which Shepard expected. That would come later, in small rooms with VIs taking notes and taking measurements of every possible indicator: her pulse, her temperature, her body language. Shepard understood that some in the Alliance wouldn’t stop until she was thoroughly discredited.

Then there were the ones like Anderson and Hackett, willing to listen and see reason. She had to get through to them somehow.

But then Hackett led Shepard into a small room, her prison until the Alliance decided what to do with her. “Vega, first shift is yours,” Hackett said. The lieutenant with the mohawk saluted sharply.

“Yes, sir.”

“Shepard,” Hackett took a breath. “We’ll be in touch. Soon, I hope.”

Shepard stood at parade rest and nodded. The door closed behind Hackett and she was left alone. Alone with no idea when she would be able to leave.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she ignored how the walls of the room seemed to be closing in on her. She had given up _everything_ for this. Her reputation, her crew, her lover and her very freedom.

Music, soft but urgent, broke through her reverie. Shepard looked around the room, wanting to find the source. An alarm clock sat on the nightstand next to the bed. The beat was _strong_ , the type of music she would hear in Flux or Afterlife.

Before she realized she was even doing it, Shepard started tapping her toe. Out of rhythm of course; she never could keep a beat. But just the simple movement cause a laugh to escape.  

The next thing she knew, Shepard _danced._ She stood in that room, which no doubt had surveillance and let loose. She danced as the old saying went _like no one was watching._

And it felt fucking great.

When she finally tired, Shepard leaned up against the big picture window, looking out on the city of Vancouver. At least they gave her a room with a view.

She looked up at the sky, thinking of her crew, hoping they were safe. She thought of one particular turian, hopefully reconciling with his father. And she thought of the trillions of beings out there, just going about their lives, having no idea of the horrors ahead.

Her freedom paled in comparison of what lay ahead of the galaxy.

“You’re worth it,” Shepard said softly, pressing her cheek against the glass and looked towards Palaven. “You’re absolutely worth it.”

And then she straightened and brought up her omni-tool. She had work to do.


	20. What's Next?

“So about those vids you had running through your head…” 

Garrus chuckled, tightening his arm around Shepard’s waist, letting the palm of his hand rest on her stomach. Her skin was warm to the touch, almost hot, with just a hint of sweat. He pressed his brow against the side of her head, enjoying how her shaved head felt against his plates. “I’d say we pretty much nailed it, Shepard. Just on a bed instead of a couch.” 

“But what about after that part?” Shepard asked lazily. “What happens next?”

His heart clenched, thinking of all the things he’d like to happen, but hadn’t had the courage to tell her yet. Winning this damn war, getting married, adopting a few angry orphans, living until they they’re both wrinkled from old age. 

But as close as they are to this damn war, those things all seem a million miles away. Impossible dreams to reach for. So Garrus brought it closer to home for them both. 

“I’m a simple turian with simple needs, Shepard,” Garrus said, holding her a bit tighter. “After that performance, I’m thinking a full glass of water for each of us.”

“Mmm,” Shepard said, eyes closed. “Yes, please.” 

“Think of it,” Garrus said, speaking with the lower register of his subvocals. “Think of the water, hydrating your body, chasing away our hangovers tomorrow.” 

A smile spread across her lips. “Tell me more.” 

“We fall asleep, and don’t wake up for eight hours,” Garrus said, pressing his mouth plates against her cheek. “And when we do wake up, we’re refreshed and alert and not tired at all.” 

“I can’t remember that feeling,” Shepard said, and there’s a sadness in her voice he recognized. It’s in his own voice, in the entire galaxy’s voice. “Not being tired.” 

“Some day, Shepard,” Garrus said, hoping beyond hope this wasn’t a fantasy they’d never experience. His eyes closed, ready for some sleep himself. “Some day.”


	21. Frightened Kiss

Garrus grabs her hand the moment Legion starts the geth fighter. He doesn’t want to die, not here, not now, not when so much war still needs to be fought. But here they are, trying to outfly an exploding dreadnought.

Besides him, Shepard is furious. He can tell from her posture, which is rigid, every muscle tense. On her other side, is Tali, chattering away, like she always does when she’s nervous. No doubt she is, her own people ignoring their pleas to cease fire until they were safely away from the ship.

He switches to the private audio channel he shares with Shepard, knowing neither Legion or Tali will be able to hear them. “Shepard?”

There’s a hint of a curve in her spine, the first sign of a thaw. “Yeah?”

Ignoring the anger in her voice, Garrus says,“I love you.” It’s only the second time he’s said those words since their time on the top of the Presidium. But somehow, considering they might not make it out of this situation alive, it seems appropriate.

Shepard turns her head, and he can see her eyes through her tinted metal of her helmet. She leans forward then, brushing her helmet against his, just like all those times they’ve pressed their brows together. “I love you, too.”

Garrus squeezes her hand, knowing at least if he dies today, he dies holding hands with the woman he loves.


	22. Rumors

“You do realize, Shepard, that you have one of the more recognizable faces in the galaxy,” Garrus said without looking up from his omni-tool.

“I understand that,” Shepard said, as she moved his forearm and straddled his lap. “But-”

“And because of that famous mug of yours, people want to gossip,” Garrus said, wasting no time in putting his hands on her waist.

Shepard closed her eyes before resting her brow against his. “That damn news vid said I had an affair with Anderson. Anderson. That’s just wrong.”

He chuckled, thinking of how many people the gossip hounds have speculated her with, and not one of them had gotten it right yet. Another advantage of a human-turian relationship. No one expected it.

“And before that they said you were with Hackett and with Williams,” Garrus said. “Shepard… it is what it is. People gossip.”

She bit her lip as she closed her eyes. “Maybe we should go public,” she said softly.

“Thought you didn’t want to do that,” Garrus said, his chest tightening. He wouldn’t mind the entire galaxy knowing they were together, but she had been so adamant.

Shepard pressed her lips against his mouth plates, then, but her mouth was in a hard line. “Yeah, well, that’s before someone said the only reason I got the Normandy back was cause I fucked Anderson.” She sat up straight and ran a hand over her shaved head. “Is this how you pictured it? Being with me? The gossip and the general craziness?”

“Maybe a little less crazy,” Garrus said, hearing amusement in his subvocals. “And honesty? I could really do without the Reapers. But everything else? Wouldn’t change a thing.”

And as Shepard leaned in for another kiss, Garrus realized he meant every word.


	23. Surprise Kiss

It’s not until Shepard takes a sip of coffee, cringing at how cold and stale it tastes, that she realizes just how late it is. Like clockwork, Yeoman Fitch brings Shepard coffee right before she goes to bed. If it’s cold…

She looks up from the terminal in the war room and her neck protests, another sign she’s been working too long. No matter how many Alliance and Council reports she reads, there’s never enough time to get through them all.

The door to the war room opens, and Garrus walks in, holding two cups. Shepard breaths deeply at the smell, recognizing fresh coffee and rajka, the turian version. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Shepard asks. He never came to bed the night before, thanks to a meeting with the Primarch.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that, so I don’t have to ask it right back,” Garrus says as he hands her the cup of steaming liquid.

“Thank you,” Shepard says, taking a sip. Already she feels more awake and ready to read the reports.

“Mind if I join you?” Garrus asks, bringing up his omni-tool. “The map in the battery is starting to drive me crazy. I need a break from it.”

Shepard nods as she puts down her coffee, to pick up her pad. But then she realizes this is the first time they’ve been alone in almost two days. So without a second thought, she stands up, grabbing the collar of Garrus’ armor and brings him in for a kiss.

“What’s that for?” Garrus asks when she lets go. His voice sounds surprised, but she can hear how pleased he is, thanks to his subvocals.

“Would you believe just for being you?” Shepard asks, sitting down again, ready to go back to work.

Garrus seems to consider the question, before shaking his head with a laugh. “You know, Shepard, at this rate, someday I just might.”


	24. Enamor Me

Shepard leaned back on her couch, ready to admit defeat. Close to an hour of searching, throwing herself down the turian extranet rabbit hole, and she still had no answer.

“Garrus?” she asked, stretching her arms above her head, in the way she knew he liked.

“Mm-hmm,” he said, as he sat next to her, not looking up from his omni-tool.

Her eyes narrowed. Well that certainly wouldn’t do. Pushing Garrus’ arm away, Shepard climbed into his lap, straddling his hips. He raised his head at once, and she heard the amusement in his subvocals as he said, “Can I help you, Shepard?”

She rested her forearms on his shoulders, leaning close, so her breasts pressed against his carapace. “According to turian holidays, how am I supposed to commercially show my affection for you?”

His brows furrowed, and Shepard bit back a smile, seeing the confusion on his face. “Excuse me?”

“Hear me out,” she said, trying to sound serious. “Humans have holidays meant specifically for couples. Valentine’s Day. Sweetest Day. Holidays where we’re supposed to spend credits on each other to prove how much we care.”

For a brief moment, Garrus looked panicked before he said, “I read Sweetest Day went out of fashion a century ago and you were in lock up during Valentine’s Day.”

“Very good, Vakarian,” Shepard said, rolling her hips slowly, just enough to put a bit of pressure on his groin plates. “But what’s the turian equivalent?”

He shook his head and Shepard heard him snickering. “Shepard, I hate to break it to you, but there is no turian equivalent. _If_ turian couples celebrate, and that’s an if, they celebrate the day they met.”

She should have known. Turians were far too resourceful to have holidays like Valentine’s Day. “So first day we met?” Shepard asks. “So that would have been-”

“May twenty-seventh, twenty-one eighty-three,” Garrus said, finishing her sentence. “One of the most important days of my life.”

“May was a while ago,” Shepard said, putting more pressure onto Garrus’ lap. “I suppose that means I’ll need to find another way to show I care.”

Shepard let out a laugh as Garrus practically flipped them over, so they were laying down on the couch, with him on top of her. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he said, arousal permeating through his subvocals. “Let me show you.”  


	25. Zip Me

“Think anyone would notice if we just stayed in bed all day?” **  
**

Sitting on the side of the bed, Garrus chuckled and turned to look over his shoulder. Shepard lay there, completely naked, with nothing covering her. Spirits, he had missed this.

“One or two people might notice,” he said, standing up. “And I need to meet with the Primarch in twenty minutes.”

“Oh fine,” she said, leaning over the side of the bed. When Shepard sat back up, she put on the t-shirt Garrus distinctively remembered throwing to the ground last night. “Speaking of the Primarch, how are we playing it? Does he know…”

Garrus flicked his mandibles as he stood up, hoping she’d finish the sentence. What they were was still a bit of a mystery to him. While Shepard made it abundantly clear she was happy to be reunited, it’s the other words she’d said yesterday, that she can’t promise anything, that stuck in his head.

He picked up his underarmor and started to dress, trying to figure out an answer in his head. “He doesn’t know,” Garrus said. “But my guess is that he’ll figure out pretty quickly. And if Victus asks, I’ll tell him the truth.”

“Sounds good,” Shepard said lazily, getting up off of the bed. She picked up one of his leg armor pieces and brought it to him. “I know you don’t want to disrupt the crew, Garrus, but-”

Without thinking, Garrus put his arm around Shepard’s waist and kissed her as best he could. Her looked clearly asked _why the kiss_? “That was when we were on a Cerberus ship, Shepard. Now? With the Reapers? Disrupt away.”

Her smile was soft, one he had only seen a few times before. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, pressing her lips against his mouth plates. Garrus grabbed the other leg armor piece and latched it on, noticing the confused look on Shepard’s face.

“This is different than your old kit,” she said, staring at the armor in her hand.

“And here I thought your observational skills needed work,” Garrus teased.

She swatted him on the shoulder with her free hand. “Besides the color, I mean. The seals are different. I need to know how to get you out of this thing.” Garrus stood absolutely still as Shepard raised herself on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his neck. “Quickly.”

“Well, why don’t I show you now?” Garrus asked, taking the armor piece from Shepard’s hands and letting her fingers linger against his palm. “And then tonight…” Garrus took his free hand and tapped her on the ass. “We practice.”


	26. Surprise Kiss II

He’s an idiot. **  
**

Garrus stares at the battery doors, the doors he just let Shepard walk out of with only a kiss on the cheek. His brain is screaming at him to run after her, let her know _exactly_ how much he missed her these past six months. But duty wins out, telling him to stay at his post. The Alliance messed up his baby. He had work to do.

Twenty minutes pass without him even realizing it - reading the numbers of the guns, seeing the changes the Alliance made - when the door opens behind him.

Before he even has a chance to move, there are hands on his waist, turning him around. And there’s Shepard, grabbing the collar of his armor, pulling him down for a kiss. A real kiss. Garrus responds at once, putting his hands on her ass, and slipping his tongue in her mouth.

A minute or so later, they come up for air. “I have a meeting with Chakwas,” Shepard says, somewhat apologetically. “But I decided I couldn’t wait until tonight to do that.”

He presses his brow against hers as his hands linger on her waist. “I like your way of thinking,” he says, kissing her again, with just as much vigor. And then he backs off, ignoring how he feels slightly breathless, and the way his plates want to spread. He wills them together as he leans back against his console. “Have fun at your meeting.”

Shepard looks away, and Garrus feels a hint of triumphant when he notices how red her cheeks are. But then she meets his gaze head on. “Have fun with your numbers,” she says, before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

Garrus sighs and goes back to his console. Off-duty hours can’t come soon enough.


	27. Steamy Kiss

Sweat starts beading along her skin the moment Shepard steps into the sauna. She clutches the towel wrapped around her body and looks at Garrus. His arms are resting on the back of the seats, with his head leaning back, thanks to specially designed seats with plenty of room for his fringe.

He looks the absolute picture of relaxation and she quickly realizes that he’s completely naked. No towel needed for Garrus Vakarian, apparently.

“About time you made it here, Shepard,” Garrus says, not moving an inch. “Thought I was going to have to spend this session alone.”

“Got held up by Udina,” Shepard says, locking the sauna door behind her.

She had no idea how popular saunas were with turians until Garrus suggested they go to one their next trip to the Citadel. Since she has no strong feelings one way or the other, Shepard agreed. Seeing him so relaxed, makes her glad she did.

He raises his head and looks at her. “Why don’t you lose the towel? You’ll be more comfortable.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Shepard says with a laugh, but she lets the towel fall to the floor even so.

“I saw you naked this morning, and I’m fairly certain I’ll see you naked again tonight. This is about _comfort_ , Shepard,” Garrus says, even as his eyes are clearly roaming her body.

She walks up to him, then, standing between his legs. Turians don’t sweat like humans do, instead their plates radiate heat, giving off a leather like smell. It’s one she’s grown to appreciate.

His hand move to her waist, his mandibles spreading in a smirk. “Always said I like you sweaty, Shepard. We’re going to have to do this again.”

Instead of answering, she lowers her head and kisses his mouth plates, the heat soothing against her lips. She hears appreciation in his subvocals and smiles against his plates.

Shepard’s more relaxed and _comfortable_ than she has in quite some time.


	28. A Forceful Kiss

As she exits the elevator doors, Shepard’s stomach drops. Garrus waits for her by the shuttle, talking to Cortez. To anyone else, he looks completely at ease, but she sees a hand curled into a fist and mandibles pinched in tightly.

Cortez nods when he sees her, causing Garrus to turn. Their eyes meet, and he says, a combination of worry and anger in his subvocals, “Got a minute?”

“Sure thing,” Shepard says, trying to sound casual, but completely failing. She follows him behind the shuttle where they have some semblance of privacy.

Garrus grabs her hands, still comforting even though they both wear armored gloves, while resting his brow against hers. “Don’t do this, Shepard,” he says, his subvocals pleading.

And there it is.

“I have to,” Shepard says, closing her eyes at the way his breath ghosts against her lips. “Aria has everything ready and the Alliance needs her to be in control of Omega. We need that eezo.”

“You over there with just Aria as backup?” Garrus asks. His grip tightens around her hands, almost hard enough to her.

It breaks her heart to see Garrus like this, like he’s drowning with no sight of the shore. But this is an opportunity the Alliance can’t pass up, and if Aria has rules, like Shepard fighting solo, she’ll follow them.

“I’ll check in as often as I can,” Shepard says softly, placing one hand on the side of his neck. “Every four hours.”

Garrus nods, and before Shepard can say anything else, his hands are on her waist and his mouth plates pressed roughly against her lips. For a few glorious seconds, she lets herself think only of him, and not the mission on Omega ahead.

“You better go,” he says when they break apart. “Just… Just get back here soon, Shepard. Please.”

It’s the word _please_ that makes it hard to step away. But she does. “As soon as I can.”

Their eyes lock on last time and there’s nothing more to say. So Shepard turns and walks into the shuttle.


	29. A Massage

“Everything okay down there?” Shepard asked from her desk in her quarters. **  
**

Garrus sat on the couch in the main part of the room and he wouldn’t stop fidgeting. Enough so that every turn of his head and twist of his neck broke her concentration. Not that she had a lot to begin with today, after the mission at Grissom Academy.

Her own fault, though. Maybe next time she’d take that shot of tequila with Jack after she completed her after-mission report. Not before.

“Everything’s fine,” Garrus said, his voice sounding like he didn’t have a care in the world. But Shepard read the message in his subvocals. He was one unhappy turian.

Looking for any excuse for a break, Shepard stood up and stretched her arms over her head. Just how long had it been since she sat down? Not willing to check her omni-tool, Shepard walked down the steps into the main cabin.

There Garrus sat, twisting his torso in some odd angle. “You sure you’re okay?” Shepard asked.

“Just a twinge in my waist,” he said, turning his body in the opposite direction. “Must have pulled something during the mission.”

Shepard ran her fingers over his fringe, biting her lower lip as he shivered slightly. She always did like that reaction. “Anything I can do?” she asked.

“I’ve got an idea,” Garrus said, his subvocals in a lower register, one Shepard had learned to appreciate since their relationship started. “Mind giving me a waist massage? Loosen me up a bit?”

“You want to loosen up, huh?” Shepard asked, letting her own voice drop down in pitch as she sat down on the couch next to him. “Well, I suppose I can help you there.”

Garrus stood up and immediately started undoing the latches on his tunic. Shepard sat herself at the edge of the couch, Garrus standing between her legs. Once his tunic was on the floor, Shepard took at look at his waist and saw that the right side looked a touch swollen.

“You sure you shouldn’t see Chakwas for this?” she asked. The last thing she wants is to hurt him. “Looks slightly painful.”

“Just uncomfortable,” Garrus said. “Remember that time you pulled the muscle in your shoulder? It’s like that.”

“Yeah, but I switched off hot and cold for an hour. Not had it massaged by a turian who doesn’t have much experience with human massages,” Shepard said pointedly.

His mandibles flicked out, just once, and Shepard couldn’t quite tell if it was in annoyance or not. “Humor me,” he said, unbuttoning the side of his trousers. “If you hurt me, I’ll let you know.”

Shepard rolled back her shoulders before putting her hands on his waist. The hide there was thicker than human skin, rougher, too, but oh so deliciously sensitive. Using only her fingertips, she started lightly drawing small circles into his hide.

“Feel okay? Shepard asked.

Garrus simply nodded, looking quite content with his eyes closed. Using a bit more pressure, Shepard dug her fingers into his waist, right below the line were his carapace ended.

Her effort was rewarded with a thrum, as Garrus started humming, letting her hear his contentment. She kept working, kneading a little harder, trying to listen to his subvocals carefully. She wasn’t an expert, not yet, but each day she was getting better and better at understanding those hidden messages in his voice.

And now those messages were telling her he was completely turned on. She had a visual clue, too, the way she saw his plates shifting apart from underneath the fabric in his trousers. Suddenly, massaging his sheath seemed like a far better use of her time.

His waist did look marginally better. At least that’s what she told herself as she sank to her knees, pulling Garrus’ trousers down. Somehow, she didn’t think Garrus would find reason to complain.


	30. Playful Kiss

Garrus heard the tell-take shuffle of Shepard’s bare feet walking across the hardwood floor. His sniper training kicked in and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply and evenly, but most important, quietly. **  
**

From his hiding spot behind the side of the bed, Garrus tried to remain as still as possible, not moving a muscle, not giving Shepard any reason to look more closely and to simply move on to the next room.

Why had he ever agreed to play hide and go seek in the first place?

Sexual favors to the winner, right.

Funny how easily he was willing to play these sort of games in exchange for sex. But he and Shepard had a couple of hours to kill, they had her ridiculously big apartment to themselves… why not play a game to try to figure out the ins and outs of the place.

He hid in one of the spare bedrooms on the top floor, behind a bed. He’d much rather be under the bed, but no way would his carapace fit. So instead he lay on his stomach, leaning back his head as far as he can so that Shepard wouldn’t see his fringe.

After a moment, Garrus realized he couldn’t hear her footsteps any longer and relaxed. He only had to stay hidden for five more minutes, and Shepard’s ass would be his.

But then he felt a warm hand, a very warm human hand on top of his. Garrus opened his eyes, only to see Shepard hanging off the side of the bed. “Look what I found,” she said happily, squeezing his hand. “I do believe, Garrus, that means you’re getting pegged tonight.”

Shepard let out a tiny scream as Garrus pulled her onto the floor with him, pressing his mouth plates against her lips. As they both started to undress themselves, he decided he never minded losing like this. Almost was better than winning.


	31. Judge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tumblr prompt was 'judge'

“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this,” Shepard whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“And _I_ can’t believe I had to talk you into doing this,” Garrus drawled.

They entered one of the bigger vid production studios on the Presidium. Around them, people were rushing and talking to each other in low voices.

An asari walked up to them, extending her hand. “Commander Shepard. I can’t even describe what an honor this is, to have you as a celebrity judge. I’m Ainia, the executive producer of the Citadel Bake-off.”

“Thank you,” Shepard said, shaking Ainia’s hand. “And thanks for the invitation. Never really considered myself a celebrity, especially for something like this.”

“In the middle of a war?” Ainia said. “I can’t even begin to think how this will help morale.” She turned her attention to Garrus and shook his hand. “You must be Garrus Vakarian. So important to have an advisor for dextro food. Luckily a volus didn’t make it to the final round, so you didn’t have to worry about ammonia food as well!” A salarian holding a clipboard called out and Ainia clapped her hands. “Excuse me, I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Shepard looked around the studio. Half a dozen baking stations were set up, some clearly for different species. There were utensils she didn’t even recognize laying around. But then again, her idea of cooking a meal involved unwrapping a ration bar.

 “So for the dextro food…”

“You judge on presentation and I,” Garrus said with a bit of a wistful thrum, “will tell you how it tastes.”

“Uh-huh,” Shepard said. “Admit it, you just want good dextro food. I thought Yeoman Fitch made you a meal at least once a day.”

“Which I am very grateful for, believe me,” Garrus said. “But sometimes a turian wants a dessert cooked by his own species.”

“Fair enough,” Shepard said. She understood the sacrifices Garrus made to be on the _Normandy_. Food was only part of it. All the plates and utensils were made for human hands. Not to mention all the furniture, like her bed, which he slept in most nights. “I do appreciate you being my dextro advisor.”

“Why don’t you show me that appreciation later?” Garrus asked, leaning back against the wall. “I’ve never really been on camera like this. Not sure how I’ll do.”

“Do the opposite of what you did for your interview with Diana Allers and you’ll be fine,” Shepard said with a laugh. “The stoic, no-nonsense, one-word answer thing was an act, right?”

Garrus let out a bark of a laugh. “Didn’t give her a damn thing, did I?” he said, sounding quite pleased with himself.

Ainia rushed back over to them. “We’re going to start taping very shortly. While the contestants work, you’ll record a brief introduction.” Ainia then stood very still, and when she spoke, her words were hushed. “And then the tasting will commence.”

“Ainia!” the salarian called from the other side of the room.

“Give me one moment, and I’ll show you were the taping area is,” Ainia said, rushing away.

Tapping her finger against her chin, Shepard said, “You know I know next to nothing about baking, right? Except for the fact that I like to eat baked goods? I have no idea how I’m supposed to judge this.”

“You’ll be fine, Shepard. If I had to make a bet on either you or baked good, you’ve got my money.”

“Flatterer,” Shepard said, trying to push away the sudden spike of anxiety threading her stomach. She had faced down a Reaper on fucking foot. She could handle a baking contest.

“Quiet on set!”

From where she stood, Ainia waved them over. Shepard tried to watch as the contestants lined up at their stations; she saw a salarian, a human, an elcor, a batarian, and two turians. All looked surprisingly stoic and serious as the competition was about to begin.

“In here,” Ainia said in a hushed voice. She opened a door to a small room and Shepard and Garrus followed her inside. There stood two comfortable looking chairs behind a green screen. Aina gestured towards a chair.

“Alright,” Shepard said, settling into a chair while trying to ignore the camera floating right in front of her.

Ainia took the other chair. “Just sit down, and tell us about your earliest memory when it comes to baked goods.” She brought up her omni-tool and started pressing keys on the interface. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Shepard looked down at her hands. Memories about baked goods? She couldn’t think of any, not really. She had vague memories of an old man making gingerbread around the holidays, a man who would have been her grandfather, who she barely remembered. But that memory was not to be shared.

With the Khalibs, she had eaten _doogh_ or _bamieh_ and had gorged herself on _noghl_ , sugar-coated almonds, more than once. But that was another memory for her and not the galaxy.

“I’ve always been fond of cookies,” Shepard said, crossing her legs at the knee. Her mind whirled a bit, trying to figure out how to make sure she didn’t give too much away about herself. “When I was a kid, I liked to go to storytime at the library.”

What the galaxy didn’t need to know was she went there because she had nowhere else to go. Her foster family at the time hadn’t been welcoming. At all. But in the library, she always felt like had a home.

“They had these cookies,” Shepard said, practically tasting them on her tongue. “My favorites were always the peanut butter ones. I can’t remember if they were store bought or catered or what. But I really loved those cookies.”

She couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she smiled, a polite smile that tended to end most conversations.

Ainia seemed to get the hint and turned off the camera. “Perfect. Now we wait for about thirty minutes, and it will be time for the judging. There will be the four regular judges there. You’ll go last, so feel free to put whatever they say in your own words if you’re not sure.”

Shepard tried to hide her sigh of relief. She could do that. She could absolutely do that.

“Then Advisor Vakarian, you’ll taste the dextro food and give your opinion to Commander Shepard,” Ainia said. “It really is ridiculous that we don’t have separate bake-offs, but the ratings want everyone together.”

“Understood,” Garrus said. Shepard smiled at the seriousness in his voice, like he was prepping for a mission.

“In the meantime, feel free to mill around. Just don’t get in the way of the camera,” Ainia said briskly as she stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to do.”

Once Ainia left the room, Garrus held out his hand to her. As Shepard let him help her up out of the chair, he said, “So cookies, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

Shepard looked up and smiled, a real smile this time, one only a few people ever got the chance to see. “Please do. I love me some peanut butter cookies.”

“Want to watch the bakers?” Garrus asked, excitement lacing his subvocals.

“Let you see what desserts you’ll get to eat? Absolutely.”

They left the set and headed over to the main studio, being careful not to make any loud noises. The contestants were all working at a rapid pace. Even the elcor seemed to move quickly.

A dark blue asari walked among the bakers, asking questions and making notes. Once she made it to one of the turians, Shepard saw Garrus almost freeze in place besides her. A moment later, he turned and walked away.

A large timer showed that there were fifteen minutes left to the competition, plenty of time for Shepard to follow Garrus. He stood in a corner, arms crossed over his chest. To someone who didn’t know him, he looked casual. But to Shepard, thanks to the way his mandibles were held tight against his face and the way he leaned forward, she knew something was wrong.

“Garrus,” Shepard said softly, not wanting to be overheard.

“That turian,” Garrus said, just as quiet. “She’s making _pytmol_ strudel. I haven’t…” He took a breath, and Shepard heard a mournful thrum in his subvocals. “My mom used to make that for me when I was a kid, when I had a bad day. I haven’t had any in a really long time.”

Shepard looked over to the turian woman, blissfully unaware of the turmoil her dish was causing ten meters away. “You gonna be okay?” Shepard said, placing her hand on Garrus’ shoulder. Normally she would never reach out in public, but this seemed to warrant an exception.

“Yeah,” Garrus said with a nod. His subvocals begged to differ slightly, but Shepard didn’t want to push. “Hope it tastes as good as I remember.”

They stayed in the corner, away from any onlookers, until the Ainia found them. “It’s time to get ready for the tasting,” she said, motioning them to follow her. “You’ll all be seated, then the contestants will bring up their baked goods.”

There were six seats at the table, three for the levo, three for turians. Introductions came and went quickly. And before Shepard could quite figure out everything that was going on, the salarian stood in front of the table, proudly holding something that looked like a sweet smelling stew.

For the first four contestants, Shepard did exactly what Ainia advised: she took one idea from one judge, and maybe another for the other. And somehow, she was fairly confident that she managed not to sound like a complete idiot. She smiled a practiced smile and tried to give a bit more warmth than she would a regular interview.

Though in the back of her mind, Shepard couldn’t help wondering if some people would see her judging a baking contest in the middle of a war and use it against her. Maybe say she wasn’t doing enough for the war effort or didn’t care enough. But thinking about that in the middle of judging wasn’t the best idea, perhaps.

The turian with _pytmol_ strudel came up next. The dish itself looked beautiful, fluffy pastry with some sort of light blue glaze on top. Shepard mentioned how nice it looked and then it came time to taste. Garrus was the last to try the dish, and even Shepard found herself holding her breath a bit as he brought his eating utensil up to his mouth.

Turians didn’t really chew their food, understable, given their teeth. From what Shepard had learned from Garrus over the years, is that the food is cooked or baked so that it easily dissolved in the mouth. Thanks to that, meals could take a long time, and most turians considered a meal alone a meal wasted.

Shepard watched as Garrus closed his eyes. A moment later, he said, “This is really good. Really good.”

The turian in front of the table looked quite pleased and left.

Once all six dishes had been tasted, time came for the final decisions. Thankfully, all Shepard had to do was rank them and then the host would do the rest. Of the four she actually tasted, her favorite had been the batarian’s dish, which had been some of mousse pie. It wasn’t peanut butter, but it had been damn close.

After Shepard turned in her choices, the judges were ushered off-stage, so that the elimination could be recorded. Two would be going home, leaving four for the final round. Thankfully, Shepard would have no part in that.

The salarian was the first eliminated. That had been her least favorite, far too grainy for her taste. And the other contestant to go home was the batarian. Shepard bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. Of course her favorite went home. She must not have a future in baked goods. Somehow, she would survive that disappointment.

Looking at Garrus, Shepard asked, “You doing okay?”

Garrus was staring at the leftovers on the table. “Think they’d mind if I brought some of that back to the _Normandy?_ ”

Quite aware he didn’t actually answer the question, she said, “Can’t imagine they’d mind too much.”

A few seconds passed and Shepard debated whether or not to press. But then he looked down at her. “So apparently,” he said, “the strudel my mom made me when I was a kid wasn’t very good.”

“Oh no,” Shepard said, putting her hand in front of her mouth to cover her laugh. “She still made it for you, though. That’s got to be a nice memory.”

Garrus glanced back at the leftovers. “Yeah, it is.”

She bumped his shoulder with her own. “Good,” she said. The set had cleared, so she walked over strudel baker’s station. There on top of the counter, was a jar of the blue glaze that looked so pretty.

“That’s a _pytmol_ glaze,” Garrus said. “It’s a fruit that grows near the poles on Palaven. Hope there are some seeds left when this is all over. Hate to think there wouldn’t be any more _pytmol_ trees.”

She considered the jar. “You like it?”

“One of my favorites,” Garrus said.

Picking up the jar, Shepard said, “You know, I don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day.” She pocketed it with a sly grin. “I can think of a better use for this glaze than food.”

Garrus let out a thrum, one deep in the back of his throat, one of Shepard’s favorites. “Second helping of dessert, huh?” With a chuckle, he went over the bartarian’s baking station and started to go through drawers.

“What are you looking for?”

“Peanut butter. They’ve got to have some here, don’t they?” Garrus said as he started to move to another station.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Shepard said, closing the drawer Garrus just opened with her hip. “I’ve always got a jar in my quarters.”


End file.
